Surrender
by ZBBZL
Summary: It starts out of need. And one day, Kensi realizes it's become pure want. She doesn't really need his voice or his arms to fall asleep - she just wants him to be there.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: _Surrender_.  
**Timeline**: Starts at Christmas 2012.  
**Summary**: It starts out of need. And one day, Kensi realizes it's become pure want. She doesn't really need his voice or his arms to fall asleep - she just wants him to be there.

_To Jess, who already wants the second chapter when the first is just barely over with_. :)

As a late Christmas story, and to a new year, a new story. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

For the first time in the longest time – she'd say years, but Kensi knows deep down that a night just only a few months ago has found her in the very same state – Kensi is stricken by the realization that no tub of good old rocky road, no bubbly bath nor any cheesy corny chick flick will do the trick. When she realizes that the comfort she would have tried to find in the warmth of the first cute guy she'd come across on a night out, well, now…

She knows the only one who could bring her that now must be fast asleep, not in the least affected by what is keeping her awake right now, on the verge of shaking and, God, _crying_.

_How could he_ ? He didn't know. And, that's something Kensi would rather not let him be a part of. That's why she simply doesn't understand what brings her to do this; what brings her to reach for the phone resting on her nightstand and hit the speed dial, the line coming alive as the phone makes the call to the first number registered.

The number she knows like the back of her hand.

Belonging to the man she never wanted to see her like this.

The man she simply cannot go through _this_ without.

He picks up his phone at the first ring. His voice isn't muffled by sleep or from having his face pressed to his pillow; instead, she hears him oh so clearly, his voice just only faltering with concern when he rambles. "Kens ? What's up ? What's going on ? You need help, where are you ?"

Why is he even awake in the first place, she wonders. _Why are you awake, _she thinks, suppressing a shiver just at the thought of him asking – and yet, she knows how stupid it is, to expect him not to ask when _she's_ the one calling _him_ in the middle of the night. Kensi's about to tell him to forget it – at the same time as a flush starts spreading on her cheeks upon thinking of reasons why her partner is not in bed at this ungodly hour – when Deeks goes on, his voice soft, low, and filled with that disturbing care she cannot help but associate with those gorgeous blue eyes staring at her, and that make her smile against reason. "_Kens_…Are you okay ?"

_No_. But she can't tell him that – she has _no_ _right_ to tell him just this; no right to ask for him to be there when she all but pushes him away all the time, no right to expect him to care and come to her rescue because, God, Kensi Blye doesn't need saving. She _doesn't_. She will pull herself back together, without him, just like she's always done – she's never needed anyone, and she's not gonna let Marty Deeks be the one to change the rule.

_Too late for that, girl_.

Worst is, Kensi doesn't just _need_ him – she wants him there. She wants him to help her forget, she wants him to make it all better; she wants him to turn her world upside down in that way that only he can do, in that way that shakes her, annoys the hell out of her at first, but that ends up with her realizing that there's simply no one else she'd allow to do such a thing, no one else she'd rather work with no matter how much more professional or experienced they could be. No one else she'd want by her side day after day, no one else she'd want to chill out with at the end of a particularly long, exhausting and trying day; no one else she'd want to see at her door at 5AM, doughnuts and coffee in hand, winning smile playing on those tantalizing lips as he reminds her of their little jogging bet, or the wicked waves she desperately wants to watch him master – _so he says_.

Kensi realizes that she's not felt that in years – having someone that she knows would actually be there for her, for better or for worse. Someone who'd be willing to do anything to put a smile on her face, make her laugh or who would just wrap their arms around her, tucking her head under their chin and holding onto her until the shaking and the ache would go away.

She knows Deeks would do that in a heartbeat, without her even needing to ask him.

She knows he wants to – knows he's wanted to do that for a long time, on so many occasions.

Tonight, she needs him, and wants him to do just that. And yet, Kensi can't bring herself to say the words, can't form them, and there's only a silent gasp escaping her parted lips when she tries. She's not okay; she isn't, and right now, after long years of _having_ to face everything alone, Kensi is ready to surrender.

She's done running. She's done running away from people who love her, just because others promised pretty things and ended up leaving her. Kensi _is_ done with that – but words don't come out. Deeks is the one breaking the silence, in the end; he knows _she_ won't. "You know, you should have just accepted to go out, baby girl, instead of tossing and turning all night before gathering the courage for this little booty call," he teases, finding comfort in their usual, familiar, personal banter. "Though, maybe it's your _thing_… Is this one of those kinky, depraved secret you wanted to tell me about ?"

"You're a pig," she lets out in a breath, along with a supposedly annoyed sigh, when really, all she wants to do is _thank_ him. She hears him laugh, and she smiles; it's a tiny smile, but Kensi is grateful – for him, for his voice warming her entire being in the middle of the dark, cold night, and for him being… Well, _him_; for being there, for being just a phone call away, for being her partner. Her friend. _Her Deeks_.

"Yeah, well, maybe I am, but it's all your fault, Princess," he gently offers, his tone quiet, the teasing still there but accompanied with a softness, a tenderness that sends a shiver running down her spine. "You call me at night, and now all I can see in my head is you sleeping in some very velvety, curve-hugging little Santa outfit…" He hears her surprised gasp, but goes on before she can interrupt him. "Nuh-uh, Kens. You were the one telling me you slept with nothing on unless it's a costume. Would you rather have me imagining you naked ?"

Oh God, those visions he's putting in her head, visions of skimpy red clinging to her body, and those larger, masculine hands tearing the fabric apart, uncovering heated skin to explore for his hungry eyes to roam on. Kensi can feel the flush creeping up her neck and cheeks, the burning tension coiling deep in the pit of her belly as the images blur her eyes. Those are dangerous thoughts – it's dangerous because, really, she knows it would be so easy to turn dreams, _fantasies_ into reality. _So_, so easy to fall into his welcoming arms, and mold her body against his, let him trap her between the solid warmth of taut muscles and crispy, soft sheets.

And yet, right now, this is the _last_ thing she wants. God knows she _wants_ him, but… Kensi doesn't only want him, and it doesn't get lost on her that she makes absolutely no sense. She doesn't only need him, but she does; she doesn't only want him, but she does.

God, where is Nate when she'd _finally_ be ready to talk to him ?

"Kens ?" he says after a moment of quiet, and Kensi hears it in his voice, the concern, the worry back there. She nods as if he could see her, and just rolls her eyes at her own silliness; but before she can say anything – Kensi doesn't know if she could, anyway – Deeks goes on. His tone is firmer now, and there's no remnant of the teasing, no hint of hesitation when he speaks. "I'll be there in ten."

And then, he's _gone_.

It's more than a simple statement; it's a promise, words of reassurance, words of comfort, but Kensi can't help but feel _cold_ when she's met with the silence on the other end of the line. Deeks was just there, right there with her – his voice made her feel like she wasn't alone; and within a split second, she was alone again. Alone _and_ lonely, a difference in semantics that only exists on paper; there was nothing separating them when she was bunched between Sam and Callen on a booth in some bar, with Nate and Eric, sometimes Dom… Sometimes Renko… There was nothing reminding her of the fact that there is supposed to be a difference when even in the crowd, she felt empty.

She hasn't felt like that ever since Deeks came in.

The only times she's felt empty, well… She thought she'd lost him.

And _that_, wasn't an option anymore. It wasn't something she could deal with, something she could survive; something she could move on from, put behind her and find strength in. _No_.

Kensi gets up, not bothering to cover herself as she stands in shorts and a tank top before walking to her living-room where she curls up in her couch, waiting for him. Her knees bent to her chest, her arms wrapped around, she _waits_. True to his words, a soft knock at her door is heard around ten minutes later.

Kensi knows that the person on the other side is the only one she will ever trust enough to let them see her like this.

The only one she trusts.

The only one she needs.

The only one she _wants_.

* * *

He hasn't even bothered to change either. Here he stands, a soft, almost shy smile adorning his sleepy features, golden curls going every way and spread before his eyes. Deeks is wearing pajama bottoms with blue stripes and a white tee under his grey hoodie, his hands hidden in his pockets because of the chilly December air, his go-bag slumped over his shoulder.

Kensi will never forget how her heart had gone just a bit mad, one morning months ago, upon seeing him just like this. Calm, peaceful, quiet as he had laid in bed next to her. Cute, adorable, playfully flirting with his pretty wife when she had come home to him.

To _Justin_, not him.

(There's no way she can ever pull out the brother/sister card again, after he slipped a ring on her finger.)

"I call the hot shower first thing tomorrow morning," he simply says as she stands aside to let him in her house. He sighs and falls dramatically on her couch, covering his forehead with a shaky hand. "I think I caught pneumonia somewhere in between my front door and my car." Deeks tilts his head to her, a sly grin growing on his lips as his mouth forms a pout. "But…I'm sure you know how to warm up a man, baby doll ?"

It surprises him, when the punch doesn't come.

But what surprises Deeks the most, and even here, _surprise_ is still not enough of a word to describe what he feels, is the sight of Kensi smiling. It's a small smile, sure, but a smile all the same; there's no hint of future retaliation for his cocky, flirty words in it, but this smile… God, it tugs at his every heartstring. There's this little touch of sorrow, of _sadness_ that makes him truly ache for her, almost enough to make him stand up and wrap his arms around her fragile-looking frame, here in the dark.

She's strong, his partner. Tough, lethal, determined. Stubborn. Reckless. Badass of all sorts. But in here, in the safety of her home, the only place where she feels like she can let go (and yet Deeks is sure it _doesn't_ happen a lot), let the mask fall, Kensi looks so _tiny_, so much younger with that cute fluffy pink top that he _should_ mock her for, but can't find it in him to do so…

He knows it means a lot, that she would let him _in_. That she'd allow him to witness this – to be there to _help_ her patch up her wounds. That she wants him to be, she who would have never admitted any weakness, to herself, to anyone and particularly not him; _ever_.

(Right there, caught in that moment when he's still sitting, and warring with himself about walking to her to hug her or not, Deeks vows that he _will_ always be there to bring that little smile to her face, in those darkest hours.)

"So, you coming ?" Kensi just shrugs, nodding in the direction of her bedroom.

_No pretending_, he thinks. She's not even pretending that her fingers aren't shaking as she tries to lace them together to still the motion. She's not even pretending that she's okay – and that's enough for Deeks to know everything he needs. "Right side's for me, just like old times," he warns playfully as he switches off the lamp in her living-room before following her to her room.

Kensi stops there in the doorframe, and he bumps into her. She turns around to face him, slowly studying his face for a moment before she speaks; her tongue darts out on dry lips, and her gaze locks steadily with his. Brown searching blue, for what, Deeks is not sure, but his eyes never leave hers until she reaches for his hand, tentatively wrapping her slender fingers around his wrist. Ever softly, just the merest brush of fingers on his skin, and yet, this simple touch sends a shiver down his spine that thousands others have never stoked with such strength. "The right side belongs to me. But, tonight… I'm willing to _share_."

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that by this, she means so much more than that.

Deeks doesn't press immediately, though, nor does he question her. He knows why she called him – well, he knows what _today_ means. Why she would call _him_, _now_, is another story. Silently, he strips off his hoodie, leaving it on the back of a chair in the corner of her room before he slips under the sheets, turning on his side to look at her.

Kensi is lying on her back, her hands on her belly over the blanket, staring at the ceiling. Personal space ceases to exist at the moment she deliberately chooses to lie on the middle of the bed, leaving Deeks no choice but to curl up to her side. He doesn't reach for her, though, even if his instinct – and his heart, this foolish thing – screams at him to do so; instead, he just watches her, studies the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, the gentle flutter of her eyelids that yet show no hint of sleepiness, and Deeks only allows himself to briefly let his eyes roam on those lips, plumb and deliciously pink, waiting to be kissed.

(So what if he has a thing for fairy-tales ? Kensi doesn't need to know.)

In the end, she surprises him again. She's the one tugging at his arm, bringing it around her waist at the same time as she rolls on her side, and Deeks finds himself with the most beautiful woman in the world in his arms. He feels her breath tickling his chest through the fabric of his shirt, soon mingling with something heavier – not tears, but her breathing becomes shallow, as if she was holding some back.

"It's okay, Kens," he soothes, unsure as to what he should say, if he should tell her what he thinks he knows, if he should lead the conversation, or let her come to him. But she's already in his arms, so Deeks reckons it's safe to continue. "I'm here, it's all gonna be okay, I swear," he gently insists, now fully hugging her body to his. One hand finds its way to her hair, fingers sifting through dark waves as Deeks tenderly brushes them off her face, and his other arm snakes around her middle, flushing her closer. Her hands shoot up, clenching in his shirt, and for another long moment, Kensi stays silent, and Deeks doesn't dare look down to check if she's still awake, or already fast asleep.

He doesn't mind being her pillow. He doesn't mind coming to her in the middle of the night, if it can chase away the demons lurking around in the dark; if it can keep the ghosts away from her, even for just a little while. He doesn't mind if she doesn't say a thing, or if she keeps him awake until the crack of dawn.

It's not exactly part of his contract. But it's completely his job.

To be there for his partner. His friend.

To have her back.

To protect her.

"I'm sorry," he simply offers. That's something he does a lot, Kensi has noticed through the years. _Apologizing_, when he was never guilty of anything – when there's nothing he could have ever done. And she doesn't understand _why_, because now… There's so much he does, that only he can do, that Kensi will never understand why he apologizes when his mere existence is all the comfort she'll ever need. "I'm sorry I didn't insist more earlier…" Deeks pauses, and Kensi feels him tense around her. "About taking you out, about going out for a drink. I wanted – ugh, I wanted to make today better, to make you forget… Well, not forget, but…"

_He knows_.

And just with that, her heart's beating faster again, as the brush of his fingers up and down her arm, down the curve of her side, to her hip where they trace gentle circles suddenly awakens an entirely new kind of _fire_. "I should have said yes…" Kensi replies softly, her voice just barely above a whisper. It tickles his chest, and Deeks squirms a bit until he's sliding down the bed, enough so he's face-to-face with her.

"I'm sorry, Kens," he repeats, and Kensi shakes her head. She can't hear him say it, and yet she knows it's where this is going. "I'm sorry for leaving you alone tonight. I know it has to be hard for you, this whole time of the year…" He means Jack, she knows it, and Kensi reckons it's not fair to let that ghost haunt him, _them_. She sees it in his eyes, the blue turning into this pale grey, soft and filled with concern – he aches for her. For her losses. Somehow, right now, Kensi wishes he didn't know about Jack, because what she feels at the moment… It has nothing to do with him. The pain of losing him is _nothing_ in comparison. "I know today is the anniversary of your father's death," Deeks finishes quietly.

She gulps, and clears her throat. Hearing him say it, putting words to her grief, is something Kensi could have only suspected the strength of. Kensi nods for no reason, acknowledging the truth. "I thought…" She sighs and closes her eyes, unable to stare any longer in those gorgeous blue pools. "I thought it would be easier this year," she continues after a moment. "Because I know the truth. Because my questions found their answers, because I got my mom back… But, I was wrong."

"You miss him." It's not a question, just a statement of an all too obvious truth. "That's normal. That's not gonna fly away all of a sudden."

She does.

Every day. There's not an hour without her father in it.

But now, Kensi realizes, there's someone _else_ living in her every awake, or not, hour.

"It's been fifteen years," Kensi starts, barely finding her voice. She's _not_ gonna cry, _dammit_. "I've spent half my life without him now…"

She feels his hand on her skin, soft, gentle, as he brushes curls from her forehead. Kensi opens her eyes again, only to find Deeks looking at her with such reverence in his gaze, it threatens to take her breath away. Only now does it hit her, the situation they're in – she, her clothes just barely hiding skin she usually slaps him for checking out, wrapped in her partner's arms, in her bed. At her demand. He came to her because she called him, because that's what Marty Deeks does.

Surprisingly, she's okay with it. One hundred percent okay with the warmth and the comfort of his arms around her, the feel of his body heat sinking into hers as he hugs her in a tight embrace. One hundred percent okay, and thrilled, almost jolted as his lips brush her skin, dropping the softest kiss to her temple. "It's okay now," he just says. "You know the truth, you spent your life looking for it. You found justice in the way. That's a good way to spend fifteen years. _Now_… You can find another project for the next fifteen ones."

She can't help it, she laughs. "Such as… ?" she trails, looking up at him, finding the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips.

"Well well well, I'd suggest a little trip all around the world, just to take some well-deserved rest. You know, so the bad guys forget about us for a little while," he adds with a laugh of his own. "And so we can enjoy the sea, sun, and –"

"Stop right there," she warns him, gently hiking up her leg in between his, her knee silently threatening him. Good-heartedly, he does. "So, where should we start ?"

There's no point in pretending that whatever she's up to, Deeks won't be a part of it. Whether now, or in fifteen years. So, Kensi plays along, and follows him suit; he was the one starting talking about _them_, and really, she knows that even in her head, that's how it goes.

He's her partner, her best friend.

Whatever was on her way, he helped her take it down. Even when she tried to push him away – particularly when she did. That's _her_ Deeks.

And God, does it feel good to have him now.

There's not much talking after this. There's nothing to say, really. They just stay there, their breathings the only sound in the room, quiet, calm, the thump of his heart against her palm soothing as Deeks lies on his back, Kensi's head resting on his shoulder.

Tomorrow, she'll be back to calling him Shaggy and boss him around.

Tomorrow, he'll go back to annoying the hell out of her, but only because she loves it.

For now, though, Kensi is perfectly content with just enjoying the warmth of his embrace, and this feeling of comfort that he brings to everything. He's her rock now, and she knows it. She's done denying it.

A few months ago, it had meant letting her go.

Right now, it means making her feel like he will never do such a thing again.

The hand stroking her hair stills at some point, fingers loosely hanging around her shoulder as he lifts the covers up their bodies with his other hand, ready for sleep; for the few hours remaining before the alarm goes off for another day of work. Kensi catches his wrist again, and slowly, she turns fully until her chin is resting on his chest, her eyes locked with his.

She doesn't have to say it, or even mouth it. He knows. To her silent _thank you_, his eyes simply answer by the subtle change of shade, turning grey to sky blue.

_Anything for you_.

There's so much more she wants to say, should say, but in the end, Kensi settles for simple. As simple as it can be, between them. She knows that her words convey much more than what they utter, because it's Deeks, and because it's her, them. Because this time of year means nothing but heartache for them both. Because Christmas has stopped being about joy and grace for Kensi a long time ago; fifteen years, maybe, overall. Because Christmas has surely never been any of this for Marty Deeks either.

Because it's time to make new traditions.

"You know, my mom invited me for dinner for Christmas…" she says, her voice soft, her eyes tender. "Nothing fancy, nothing big. And she's been telling me for months that _she_ wanted to thank the nice detective for everything he's done…"

Perfect blue._ You're welcome_.

"So… You in ?"

Stupid question, because she knows the answer even before asking.

The sigh escaping her own when his lips press to her forehead in gentle agreement should be embarrassing.

It's no surprise that it _isn't_.

* * *

_to be continued_


	2. Chapter 2

**Timeline**: March 2013.

_A present for Jess who had a stressful weeks of terrible exams. And to y'all who read, hopefully enjoy, and favorite, follow or review._

* * *

She's startled awake by the loud sound of something massive crashing down to the floor. In less than a second, Kensi's sitting up in her bed, her hand reaching under her pillow to get her gun – no, she's _not_ crazy, nor paranoid, only cautious. But then, before she can put a foot down, she feels it; there's no intruder, no one threatening her, no danger but the forces of Nature making the ground tremble.

Just an earthquake.

_Nothing_ to be afraid of.

Kensi Blye ain't afraid of anything, anyway (back hair…well, everyone _should_ be afraid of that) – at least, she has no irrational _feminine_ fears like spiders or snakes. It's okay to be afraid of losing your partner – _normal_, even, what kind of person would she be if she wasn't ? It's okay to be afraid of losing the ones you love. But a quake… It hasn't bothered her in the longest time; not ever since she was eight or nine, she thinks.

She's been living in Los Angeles for long enough now to be accustomed to them. There are the baby ones, the little quakes Deeks doesn't even bother calling as such because they can't pull her California Boy out of his needed beauty sleep; the bigger ones like tonight that leave everything in a mess – well, in a _messier_ mess than what her place usually looks like. Kensi knew it when she decided to settle down in LA, and really, she's not scared – what's a quake, compared to a gun aimed at you or your partner ? What's a quake when you face death on a daily basis, global pandemic, terrorists, gang dealers and so many worse things plaguing the city of angels ?

And yet, Kensi can't quite shake the thought of Deeks dying like this away. Or Callen and Sam. Hetty, Eric, Nell, Nate. Her mom. Everyone she cares about and loves. The list is short, but the people on it ? They mean _everything_ to her. They face danger every day in their line of work (God, if there have been way too many close calls), and it's part of the contract; they all know what they signed up for, and Kensi isn't afraid of dying – she's come to terms with the idea that she won't live a long life, anyway, so she'd rather spend it doing what she thinks to be right. But what can she do against _this_ ? Her gun won't save her, nor anyone. There's nothing she could do if the ground started trembling again and engulfed her, burying her; nothing she could do but wait for help, praying it'd come, hoping against all reason that something could be done in time.

She knows she's overreacting and she _hates_ herself for that. For letting the unease, the irrational fear creep up, for letting one little thing throw her off balance, she who has spent the last fifteen years building a shell around her, impenetrable walls meant to guard her and protect her from those silly thoughts. She's Kensi Marie Blye, for God's sakes, and Kensi Marie Blye isn't one to flinch or bend. That's not how she was raised, that's not who she is – and that's _definitely_ not who she wants to be.

But some days, some nights like tonight, it's just near impossible for Kensi to tell what's _real_ or not; if she really is this person. If she can _still_ be after everything she's seen, everything she's been through, knowing everything she knows, now that once again, her world has been turned upside down. Deeks says she's Wonder Woman, but would he still think that if he saw her right now, knuckles white from clenching around her gun, anguish blatant on her pale face ?

_Deeks_… It's okay to be afraid _for_ him. And the need for reassurance, the need to know he _is_ okay is the only reason why she reaches for her phone. He picks up before she can chicken out and hang up, his voice tinted with that concern she's grown to appreciate. "I was just about to check on you, Fern," he says before she can utter a word. His caring tone doesn't reflect the cockiness of his next words. "Poor Monty rushed into my bed, but there's still room for you if you're scared."

Kensi scoffs and sighs, her hold around her gun slowly loosening – she will never admit that hearing his voice does help her relax, even just the tiniest bit. Just like she'll never admit to him how _frightened_ she truly is at the moment. "I woke up to the sound of something crashing down, but otherwise I'm fine. Are _you_ okay ?"

The worry laced in her voice unsettles Deeks; he knows Kensi cares about him – after all, she does punch him on a daily basis like a school girl with a crush, or insist on the fact that the only reason why she tolerates his being there is because she's too tired to train a new partner. He knows it, but actually hearing it in her soft, yet heavy sigh as he imagines her wrapped in her blanket, her phone tucked against her ear ? Deeks doesn't know how he feels about that – the idea of Kensi being _somewhat_ scared is completely intolerable to him, just like the sight of her injured and hurt, but at the same time… He feels incredibly lucky that somehow, he won her over, enough for her to care.

If Monty hadn't barked and jumped in his bed, Deeks would have probably enjoyed the rest of the dream sequence involving a certain brunette before waking up the next morning to find his place in a mess – memories from college hangovers wondering what the hell happened the night before come back to him and he grins. But the smile soon falters as he hears Kensi sigh again, the slightest tremble in her shaky exhale making him snap back into focus. "I'm okay, don't worry. Haven't checked the rest of the place yet, but as long as Monty and you are okay, I am." Monty snuggles to him upon recognizing his name, and Deeks pats his head fondly; he can feel Kensi smiling on the other end of the phone, in spite of her quiet silence.

Kensi balances her legs off the edge of the bed, grabbing her robe as she makes her way to her bedroom door. Gun still in hand, she opens it to reveal her living-room, and Kensi needs a minute – oh, how she's sure Deeks would laugh at that – before spotting, in the midst of her familiar chaos, what's wrong. Her TV and laptop that she left on her coffee table are fine, but her floor is littered with trinkets that she's sure she didn't leave there on purpose; the shelf facing her front door is down and there's shattered glass everywhere from the framed paintings. "My place is a mess," she says.

"Messier than usual ?" he laughs, "God, this I gotta see." He pauses, and Kensi's breath catches for a moment; she called him, she should have seen it coming, and honestly, there's no way she can pretend she doesn't want him to come if he asks. He _doesn't_, though. "Monty wants to come check on you," he simply says. "You wouldn't want to hurt his feelings, would you now, Fern ?"

She blurts out her reply before she can try to hold it back or ponder her words that inevitably don't come out the way she wanted them to. "Don't come!" Kensi hears the surprise, the brief _hurt_ in his sharp intake of breath. "No, Deeks, I didn't…" She sighs, finally dropping her gun. Kensi flicks the switch on, relieved to see that the power hasn't gone out. She curls up on her couch, wrapping the blanket on the back around her tightly – she's cold, and not even Deeks' voice can remedy that in the distance. "I just don't want anything to happen to you, okay ?" She can hear the plea in her voice, and she hates the falter in it, the trembling she just cannot control. If something happened to him, _because of her_… "What if it starts again while you're driving ?"

Deeks chuckles. He could lighten up the mood with a joke, teasing her for obviously caring about him, or he could call her out on being afraid, she, Kensi badass Blye; but that would be too predictable. Too easy. And mostly, so inadequate, when Kensi sounds so unlike her. "I'll run, okay ? Monty insists."

_Well_, if Monty insists. "Tell him thank you from me, okay ?" she replies softly, chewing on her lip.

His reply is gentle, just above a whisper. He plays along, "A tummy rub would be a great _thank you_. Just sayin'." Deeks pauses, pursuing his lips as he thinks, tongue darting on chapped lips. In the end, he just doesn't know what to say here: something's bothering Kensi, _so_ it bothers him, too, and Deeks knows that this is a truth she wouldn't be comfortable with him voicing out. "I'll be there in… _Soon_."

Kensi hears a ruffle of clothes and Monty barking, and she smiles. The uneasy feeling she _refuses_ to call differently is still there, but once again, the idea only of having Deeks there to help her through the darkness is comforting – because it's _him_. The fleeting thoughts meandering through her mind all of a sudden, brought up to the light in the midst of the velvety night, they've been running and running for months; the misdirected indignation, the _resentment _she so wishes she could tame… He's the only one she could ever share them with. She doesn't want to think about the implications the simple admission bring about – all Kensi wants right now is to make sure that her partner is okay and that he won't disappear into the night. "Deeks -"

"I know," he says, interrupting her.

And then, he hangs up.

* * *

She hears Monty's happy barks before the knock on the door. His hand is folded in a fist in the air when she opens the door, Deeks standing there, dressed in jeans and a hoodie this time. "_Oh_, hello there," he all but slurs upon seeing her, his eyes unabashedly roaming down the length of her body. "You failed to mention we were having _that_ kind of sleepover, Princess."

Kensi glances down at her outfit, her cheeks softly tinting with pink as she takes in her _very_ short shorts and her little skimpy tank top. March had surprised them with sunny, warm days, and nights always saw Kensi tossing and turning, restless as the heat of the day sank in her body, keeping her away from sleep for long hours before finally allowing her some rest. She quickly ties the bow of her robe, clasping the lapels of fabric at her front. "Don't ruin the moment, Deeks," she says, rolling her eyes. She moves aside to let him in, closing the door behind him before bending a little to pet Monty. "Thank you for coming to my rescue, Sir Monty," she says fondly, stroking the dog behind his ears.

Deeks grins, amused and not for the first time a bit jealous of the dog; he could – and he does – risk his life for Kensi a thousand times and she still wouldn't give him so much of a friendly pat on the head when she hugs the furry mutt. _So_ _unfair_. Dropping the bag he came with on the floor, Deeks looks around, taking in the state of her house. "Are you sure this is all because of the quake, or did you throw some techno party last night that you didn't invite me to ?"

She half-punches him, half-pats his chest on her way to the couch (which one, Deeks doesn't quite know), Monty following her closely behind; she pats the space beside her, and it's Deeks' turn to roll his eyes at how natural it seems for his partner and dog to bond together as if he wasn't in the room. He goes on with his quick inspection, wondering how come he didn't feel a thing – the quake, if not highly ranked on his personal California scale, must have still hit hard enough to rouse Kensi awake, and…

He values his life enough not to actually ask her if she's scared.

But he can see it. It's written all over her face, her skin paler than usual, her gaze soft as she plays with Monty all the while glancing at him when she thinks he's not looking. She's anxious, maybe a bit _nervous_ to have let him in and witness this side of her, to have willingly called him.

He doesn't understand why.

He knows for certain that this isn't the first quake that shook Los Angeles ever since Kensi Blye moved there. He remembers clearly the day, almost two years ago now, when she came in the bullpen with survivor kits for all of them, ranting about how unprepared people were when it came to earthquakes; she hadn't sounded scared or upset about it. So what changed ? She hadn't called him that night – maybe because she didn't quite care as much as she does now – so what changed for her to do so tonight ?

Kensi watches him retreat to her kitchen, opening cupboard after another. "What are you looking for ?" she asks.

"Dustpan and brush," he shrugs, finding them in the cupboard under her sink. "Wouldn't want you to cut open your foot again, Mel darling," he continues, the gentle teasing ever present in his use of her old cover name. A smile tugs her lips upward without her consent, and for a second, a brief moment in time that Kensi will do her best to forget and bury in some deep corner of her mind, she thinks she sort of _melts_. It's so like Deeks to think of the littlest things like this, to care about things no one cares about; and even though she'd been irrationally pissed at him back then for barging in the bathroom, Kensi had appreciated his offer to check on her foot.

Deeks was _cute_ like that.

Not that she would ever say that out loud.

"Besides, I don't want Monty to step on it either," he continues, never noticing the small smile on her lips.

"You could just vacuum."

He laughs. "Well, first, honey bee, this is still _your_ house, so _you_ could do it. And secondly, -"

She can't help it. "_Second_."

"Just kiddin', partner. Making sure you were listening to me, which you were, clearly fascinated by my every word, huh ?" She throws a pillow at him that he dodges easily with reflexes being partnered up with a scary woman with anger issues have no doubt honed. "You don't vacuum past midnight. It's kind of loud, you know. You'd know that if you ever had vacuumed in your life."

Another pillow. This one hits his back, but Deeks doesn't seem to notice; he crouches on the floor, brushing pieces of glass away to pick up a picture that slid off its frame. A young Kensi, no more than five or six year-old, wearing her father's way too big navy jacket and hat. He's never seen it before; sure, Kensi has never really let him snoop around, but he's pretty sure he'd remember that if he had, because, damn, the little girl who bloomed into his sexy partner was _beyond_ adorable.

"What's in the bag ?" Kensi asks him, her voice helping him snap back into focus.

"Open it and you'll see."

He hears her pull out the items one by one, accompanied with her comments. About the candles, Kensi snorts and threatens him of bodily harm – he _loves_ the blush that tints her cheeks again when he informs her that he took them in case the power goes out, using his baby voice as if talking to a small child; the kick she gives his shin is _nothing_ like a little girl's. He lights some up and places them everywhere, bathing Kensi's living room in a soft glow. She questions his movie selection but he ignores the barb about his being a girl because he knows she loves every one of them; and then, he sees her gasp, eyes wide as another beautiful smile soon graces her lips when her fingers close around the last item.

He's always kind of regretted not to have brought it on that night two years ago.

He didn't know her enough for that; she didn't like him enough not to kill him for it.

_Now_, though…

"I can't believe you still have that," she all but whispers, her fingers dancing over the soft sea-foam fabric. She spreads the blanket on both their laps, and Monty jumps in, curling up between the two of them.

_Spoilsport_, Deeks thinks. "Nothing says quality time with my partner more than a slanket," Deeks casually shrugs as he slides his arm on the back of the couch. "So, what will it be, Kens ? John Hugues or Nora Ephron ? Titanic ? Please don't say the Real Housewives or The Bachelor," he pleads, blinking his lashes. "I don't even understand how you can watch those shows."

"Says the guy who watches Discovery Channel at the bar," Kensi snorts. Monty leans his head on her lap, and she hugs him close. Looking up at Deeks, she blinks her lashes as her lips form a ridiculous pout. "_You've Got Mail_ ? With ice-cream ? You know, just in case the power goes out, it'd be a shame to lose everything that's in my freezer."

Deeks smiles, holding back a laugh – a slightly-unlike-herself Kensi is still a deadly Kensi, after all. "Obviously. And I guess I'm the one getting up and making the ice-cream, huh ?" She nods. "All right. The things I do for you," he sighs, placing a palm over his heart.

There's nothing she can do about the way her heart suddenly speeds up at his words.

It almost makes her forget about the reason why she so desperately needed to see him.

_Almost_.

* * *

At some point, Monty jumps off of the couch, curling up near the door as if guarding them, and Kensi's head – along with the rest of her body – ends up on Deeks' shoulder: she'd kill anyone saying she's snuggling up to him, but she knows deep down that she _kind_ _of_ is. _Whatever_. He's oddly silent as the movie unrolls, his arm loosely circling her shoulders, and Kensi doesn't know how to reach out – he's here for her in the middle of the night, _again_, no questions asked, and there's no word left for her to express how she feels about that.

She wonders when Marty Deeks stopped annoying the hell out of her to become someone she can't quite live without.

She wonders why she keeps trying to figure that out instead of enjoying it. Instead of going with the moment and be grateful – because God, she is.

He doesn't mock her as she mouths every line – _he_ could do it with Titanic now, considering how many times she's made him sit through the movie – and neither does he make a comment when the first tear splashes on her cheek; he absently brushes it with the pad of his thumb, his eyes never leaving the screen. Kensi sighs heavily, nervously chewing on her lip as she leans just a bit more into him, momentarily finding in the warmth of his body the familiar steadiness that he seems to bring.

There's quite nothing _even_ Deeks can do, though, when she hears this.

"_But the truth is... I'm heartbroken. I feel as if a part of me has died, and my mother has died all over again, and no one can ever make it right."_

God, how she knows the feeling.

She doesn't get time to linger on the sudden breaking of her heart, because no more than a couple minutes after, the ground starts shaking again and the power goes out, plunging them in the semi-darkness of her candle-lit living-room. Kensi straightens up so quickly that her head hits his chin and she digs her nails in his forearm, eliciting a whine from him. "God, Kens," Deeks moans, rubbing his chin with his free hand, "It's over, okay ? No need to break my every bone." His eyes soften when he sees her open her mouth, the confusion clear on her features. He leans into her, gently grabbing her by the shoulders. "That's nothing, Kensalina. Remind me to tell you about that quake when I was four. God, I'm pretty sure I peed my pants. This ? It's nothing."

Kensi Blye isn't afraid of anything – at least, the woman he works with every day isn't.

But _that_ woman doesn't cuddle with him on the couch either, so…

"I'm not afraid," she whispers, staring off blankly, wrapping her arms around herself tightly – she _hates_ that, the shaking in her voice, the weakness, the way she can't bring herself to look at him. "It's just –"

Deeks pulls at the slanket, wrapping it around her and tucking her in. He smoothes his hands down her covered arms, _waiting_; he's learned a long time ago that there's no point in pushing Kensi even if everything in him is screaming at him to do so. There's something about her being silent, averting her gaze, that tugs at his heart and worries him – it's like watching her go back to the wary, hostile woman she was when they first met, the one with the walls fiercely erected, unshakable, impenetrable. He touches his knuckles to her chin, trying to coax a smile out of her. "What is it, Princess ? You know you can tell me anything."

"It's stupid…" she shrugs, focusing her gaze on the soft glow of the nearest candle. At the corner of her eye, Monty is back to sleep, his head tucked on his front paws – the quake didn't even last more than thirty seconds, just enough to knock the power out, but not enough to bother dog or owner. She looks around, catching a glimpse of the shattered glass on the floor, and she sighs upon thinking of the furniture she'll have to replace and the rest of the mess to clean. "I just – I'm not afraid, okay ?" she finally says, insisting as she turns to him, looking him in the eye.

"I know," he just says. "But it'd be okay if you were."

No, no it wouldn't, at least not for Kensi. But on the other hand… If there's one person she'd ever let see her like this, it's Deeks. "It's stupid, really," she repeats, "I felt the quake, it woke me up, and I – I was afraid of something happening to _you_, not of the quake…"

His fingers itch to touch her, tuck a strand of hair behind her hair, stroke her cheek. And more than that, he wants to _hug_ her – for _real_, and not under the cover of the night or her blanket – hug her, and _never_ let go. Kensi would never admit she wants that, or that some days or nights leave her aching for it, but he's pretty sure, deep down, that it's what she _needs_ – someone sticking around. "Hey, I was about to call you, too…"

She smiles. "We're the worst people ever, you know that ? Here we were watching a movie, and we didn't even think of calling the others…"

"Nah, I'm sure they're okay. Callen must be practicing his Chechen after that fiasco the other time, and Sam, well, you bet he's enjoying this because it gives him a reason to work on his survival techniques. I'm sure they're having a blast. Besides," he continues, stretching and sliding his arm behind her on the back of the couch, tugging at her, "I don't really wanna invite them to our little sleepovers."

She allows him to pull her into his arms as he leans back, and she slips in the space between the back of the couch and his body – she never really gets why it soothes her and coaxes her into sharing. Maybe it's because she's not looking him in the eye, those blue eyes that seem to read her like an open book and that could make her say just about everything, down to her deepest and darkest secrets. Maybe it's because she could never share if not for the warmth of his body sinking into her and lulling her into it. Maybe.

"You know, when I was a kid, my dad was gone, like, all the time," she starts softly, in no more than a sheer whisper. "So it was my mom who had to hold me when I had nightmares or when there was a storm, my mom who took care of the scrapes and bruises, all of that. My dad…he was fantastic whenever he was home, making up for all those weeks or months when he was away. We'd go hiking, camping, fishing… All these things that my mom wasn't so fond of, that were solely ours – he and I, just the two of us. And then the next moment, he was gone again…"

She falls silent for a moment, and Deeks contemplates letting her be – he offered her an out earlier and she didn't take it, but he won't press if she doesn't want to share. As the minutes stretch, the only sign that Kensi is awake the soft patterns she traces with a lazy finger on his chest, he decides to help. "Must have been hard to watch him go… But he sounds like the best father ever…"

"My mom was amazing, too," Kensi replies, and Deeks can hear the faintest hint of guilt in her tone. He can only guess how guilty Kensi feels upon pushing her mother away for all those years. "But my dad… I guess I've just always loved working on his car with him more than playing dolls." A smile tugs at her lips, mirroring on Deeks'. "Anyway, my mom, she did all she could to keep me busy so I wouldn't think about it too much – my dad being away, the war, the risks… When I think about it now, I don't ever remember being really scared for him, not because I thought he was a hero, but because my mom did everything to make me forget about what he did exactly. Not that she _really_ knew what he did, though…"

Kensi sighs heavily, her hand above his chest curling around the fabric of his shirt. He can feel the tremor in her body as it curses across his, too, and he runs a hand over her back gently. Deeks can feel where this is heading, because God, he's done that a hundred times – thinking of all he knows _now_, and trying to rewrite the story. But in the end, what he's learned is that you cannot change your past, but that it doesn't necessarily change who you are.

Finding out about the true nature of her father's missions _doesn't_ change who he was – a good, honorable man, exemplary Marine. Just like it doesn't change who _she_ is.

"Kens, don't do that…"

She ignores his comment, continuing her story. "When I was eight, I think, there was this one time when he was stationed in Syria for some mission. Or, well, so he said – I don't even know if that part was real or not. My mom usually did her best so I wouldn't watch the news, in case something happened… But one day, she had to work late, so I stayed at one of our neighbors' for the night, with one of my friends. Her older sister was supposed to babysit us, but she was too busy being on the phone gushing over some boy to really keep an eye on us. So we watched the news… Lucy's father was supposed to be somewhere in South America, mine in Syria, and that's when we heard about the earthquake…"

Kensi closes her eyes, pressing them firmly shut. She hates herself for the weakness she's letting him witness, she who has always been stronger than this. She knows that what she feels is ridiculous – both the fear and the sting of betrayal of her father's lies – and even if Deeks doesn't think so, even if he'd do anything to make her feel better, she loathes that. "It was somewhere in the Middle East, but you know, I was young, so for me of course it had to be where my dad was. And I panicked. I was shivering so hard when her sister came in the room that she thought I was having some sort of seizure. God, I begged Laura – I begged her to call someone, _anyone_, and ask if my dad was still alive… The images, they're _still_ in my head, even now." Kensi's voice falters, strangled by tears she refuses to shed. She takes a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly, filling her lungs with much needed air – she feels trapped, all of a sudden, caught between Deeks and the couch. "When my dad came home three weeks later, I clung to him and begged him to never leave again. I – I had been so, so scared. I couldn't believe it when my mom said he was on the plane, on his way home. I already imagined him dead, trapped under the ruins."

"Anyone would have been scared, Kens. There's no shame in that. God, you were just a little girl…"

He doesn't get it – Kensi can't really blame him, she doesn't fully understand herself what she's experiencing right now. It's not fear that froze her on the spot when she realized it was a quake that had made the ground shake underneath her, and yet Kensi can't pretend that it didn't wake something in her, something old, something she thought long gone.

"I'm not afraid of quakes," she says again, trying to find the best-suited words. "I haven't been in the longest time. My dad… He reassured me, told me there was nothing to be afraid of, and in the end it wasn't the quake that had scared me, it was the idea that he could have died like all those people on the news… And tonight, when the quake started, it – it _affected_ me."

Her next words come out as a whisper, a quiet admission that sounds more meant to herself than to him. "It was all a lie, Deeks. He never went to Syria. His files that Granger gave me… I don't remember all of it, I couldn't read it all, but… He was never who he said he was. I've been afraid when I had no reason to, because he never went to those places, he wasn't even very far from home all those times he had to leave…"

"It doesn't change anything," he replies simply, knowing that nothing is ever that simple but unable to come up with something else to say.

"Of course it does."

"It doesn't _have_ to," he counters, tugging at her shoulders to force her to look at him for the first time. Kensi braces her elbows on each side of him, focusing her gaze somewhere around his chin, never meeting his eyes. "Tonight, the quake shook you, but it's just an excuse – you're upset and hurt and you feel betrayed because your dad couldn't tell you the truth." She nods, biting on her lip again. With one hand still stroking up and down her back, Deeks lifts the other to tug her lip free. "It's not lies, not really. He didn't mean to lie to you and your mom just for the sake of it. He did what we had to, what _we_ do. None of it changes the fact that he loved you."

"Is it so wrong of me to be upset ?" Kensi asks softly.

No. Yes. No, not _wrong_, but misplaced. "I lied to you, once. With that whole Clarence Fisk case."

Instead of pulling away like he thought she would, angered by him bringing that day and its events up, Kensi finally meets his eyes. Hers are gleaming with tears they both know she won't allow herself to let fall. "It wasn't your call."

"Neither was it your dad's." He knows he's made his point, and yet, Deeks presses. "Do you forgive _me_ ?"

"I forgave you a long time ago. I forgave you that day when I found out you weren't really gone." She neglects to mention her fury upon being lied to, and how she had wanted to break his neck for doing that to her. She doesn't say anything about the other things that almost happened that day beside his fake firing. "You didn't want to do it…"

Deeks isn't sure if she only talks about him, or both her father and he. It doesn't really matter, though, as long as she doesn't plague herself with those emotions that kill her. She's silent again, and this time Deeks doesn't feel the unease of before, so he drops the subject for now – Donald Blye will come up again whenever Kensi feels like it. Instead, he lets his eyes roam over the room again. "I can fix your shelves tomorrow if you want," he offers. "We can go to the store to buy some glass for your frames, too."

She doesn't _need_ his help; she put those shelves together in the first place on her own, she's done that for the past fifteen years. But it won't kill her to let him in just a bit. "That'd be very nice, thanks," she replies softly before thinking of something else. "My sink's been making strange noises lately. Can you take a look at that too ?"

He smiles. He knows she'd ask him to open a marmalade jar by now just to please him. "Sure. Do you want to go to bed now ? I don't think we're finishing the movie tonight."

He brings some candles to her room without her needing to ask him to. She calls Monty, patting her leg to make him follow them, and he curls up at the end of the bed as they crawl under the blankets.

He's just about to drift into sleep when he feels it, the soft yet calculated touch of her hand on his stomach, underneath his shirt. He inhales sharply, and he hears her laugh – as if it was funny to make him jump out of his skin. "The tummy rub was for Monty, you know," he says, his voice clearly telling her that she can do that anytime.

"Shut up, Deeks," Kensi scoffs, digging her nails into his hip. He hisses. "Just enjoy it."

"Oh, but I _am_ enjoying it, gotta have some thing with pain I guess. It's oddly exciting, especially when you're basically _naked_…"

"I'm not!"

"Those shorts are showing some skin alright," he teases, letting his hand drift to the strap of her top. "And that's skimpy. Sexy. We should have sleepovers more often."

She snorts and digs her nails again in his skin, never ceasing the motion of her hand.

They fall asleep like that, her hand still resting under his shirt, the glow of the candles slowly fading into the night.

* * *

The next day, she watches him fix everything in her house and vacuum.

She makes him a sandwich and opens a beer for him.

(It doesn't get lost on her how _domestic_ this is.)

She gives him a ride home. "So… you coming to clean my place, now ?" he jokes as they reach his place.

"Sometimes I wonder if you know me at all," she teases back. He smiles at her broadly, goofy or charming, she doesn't know.

She finds it adorable nonetheless.

* * *

_to be continued_


	3. Chapter 3

**Timeline**: April 2013.

_A little present for you all on Densi Day. And especially to Jess. A little hint has been dropped about one of Jessica237's future stories in this one. Who knows, if you ever find it, you might get an exclusive sneak peek. ;) (Jess, don't kill me.)  
_

* * *

There's a reason why Kensi Blye doesn't go on second dates.

They always end up a disaster. She feels awkward, shares things that no one – _not even Deeks _– wants to know, babbles incoherently all night and overall, is the worst klutz ever. She spills her glass of wine on his shirt if he tries to lean in and kiss her, she knocks out some poor waiter as she tries to flee and run; Kensi just doesn't do second dates. And on the rare occasions when a charming smile or sexy body lure her into accepting a second date, she always, _always_ regrets it five minutes in.

Tonight, though, if anything Kensi has learned one thing – _first_ dates can be just as bad.

On the paper – or on her screen – this guy was _perfect_. Thirty or so, brown hair, hazel eyes, tall and lean, broad shoulders and swimmer's body. Doctor by day, volunteer firefighter by night. There _had_ to be some hidden, twisted secret for Mr. Perfect to have a profile on a dating website; a fantastic meal in a gorgeous place and an interesting, witty conversation later and Kensi still hadn't found any.

And then he tells her that waves are supposed to be wicked the following day and that he'd love it if she accepted to go with him to the beach.

And then Kensi knows that this just isn't going to work.

It was written on his profile and it's Los Angeles: surfers _are_ the most common thing after wannabe stars. But she just can't do that – going to the beach to gush and smile and relax with anyone else but Deeks.

(And be damned that perfect ocean blue that she can't find in what's his name's eyes.)

He looks genuinely disappointed when she tells him that she's going home, and even offers to drive her but Kensi refuses gently and calls a cab. She sighs and puffs and bites her lip all the way home; this guy _was_ perfect, no prison record, hopefully no back hair… _And yet_.

No golden curls. No baby blues. No ridiculous Shaggy scruff.

_Dammit, Kensi_.

She unties the straps of her shoes as she takes the steps leading to her front door, dropping them on the floor as soon as she opens it – those heels are gorgeous but _evil_, simply, truly evil. She walks to the kitchen on unsteady, swollen feet and grabs a beer before slumping over her messy couch; Kensi contemplates just getting out of her dress and putting on the oversized shirt haphazardly abandoned there.

Kensi rests her head on the back of the couch for a moment, sighing and briefly closing her eyes. She regrets it instantly, though, when _his_ stupid grin flashes in her head. "Damn you," Kensi mutters, raking a hand through her dark curls in frustration. She slides down and lay on her couch, tucking a pillow behind her head as she grabs the remote and switches the TV on, absently flicking through the channels. She's ready to surrender to slumber, all too eager to forget about surfer dudes and maddening partners, when the preview for the next movie draws her attention.

All roads lead to Marty Deeks, or somewhere much, much hotter like _Hell_. Same thing.

She doesn't really hesitate when she dials his number. It comes naturally now; it's been three years that they're partners, a year of tentative pushing and pulling, a year of getting closer and a year of slowly realizing that she doesn't know what she'd do without him. It's an everyday fight with herself, to acknowledge that he's no longer just a coworker, but something more, someone she cares about, someone she wants to stick around. Someone she trusts to have her back, but that she also wants to let the guard down with.

She still rolls her eyes when he picks up and teases her, but more out of habit than annoyance. "Oh, too late, Princess. I just got out of the shower. You need to work on your timing."

"And you, on your humor," she snorts.

"Hey now, be nice," he chides her playfully. She almost _hears_ the satisfied smirk on his lips as he goes on. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this little booty-call ?"

Kensi snorts. "Do you ever _not_ think with Marty Junior ?"

He pretends to gag. "Wow, gross, Kens. Creepy, even. You just cast a curse upon our future son, dammit. Now we need another name."

Kensi's eyes widen in sheer surprise and shock, and she's glad that Deeks isn't in the same room or else that would have earned her eternal mockery. The blush tinting her skin wouldn't have helped her case either. "_Our_ son ? I thought you wanted to come back from the dead to marry _my_ daughter ?"

"That was before I knew you wanted to make a baby with me," he replies easily, the satisfaction in his voice utterly _infuriating_. "You've been dropping hints for almost a year, honey. You and me and our five-year anniversary, little ninja mutant assassins running around and playing with Brett and Polina's weird kinky brats," he starts to enumerate, "And that bridal magazine survey… _Come on_. You want me. Well, you want my super genes and that little wild surf I promised you."

"I also threatened to neuter you, once," Kensi says after a moment too long, and she knows it. He's won that one, and there's nothing she can do to win the upper hand back now. "Anyway, back to the point –"

"Oh, because you had a point ?" Deeks interrupts her, laughing at his own wit – or so he likes to call it like that. "Sorry, Sunshine. Go on," he apologizes, the ridiculous sweetness and term of endearment _not_ sending warmth through Kensi's body. _No_.

Kensi sighs heavily, a slow smile tugging at her lips in spite of everything. Damn Deeks. "Yes, I had a point. There's Indiana Jones starting in 10. I just thought that maybe you'd like to come over and watch it together."

"Which one ?" he asks.

"There's more than one ?"

Deeks half laughs, half snorts at that. "I wouldn't have enough of a lifetime to fix you, Kensalina," he teases, and Kensi can just imagine him shaking his head at her or looking at her like she's beyond repair. She can't help but grin; just a little, though. "There are four movies, officially. Latest one is a piece of joke, though. Harrison Ford is, like, a _dinosaur_ in that one. I just wanted to know if it's the first one airing or if I need to bring my DVDs."

"So you coming ?" She can't really hide how happy that makes her.

_Ridiculous, Kensi_.

"Well, Princess sure ain't putting her rear in gear, right ?" Deeks says and Kensi laughs, remembering their Christopher Stone and Darcy stunt. She never really made him pay for that, she muses. "Though I bet it'd be safer for everyone if you were the one coming."

"And why is that ?"

"Come on, Kens," Deeks replies, his tone soft and teasing as if he was trying to teach semantics to a dolphin, or just to a little child. "Look around you and tell me that your living-room _isn't_ a mess right now. If the pizza we had earlier this week isn't on your coffee table and if there's no kinky, lacy bra lost in your pillows, I'll be your slave for a month."

Kensi looks around, eyes round as she spots the empty pizza box under her gym bag on the floor beside the coffee table. She gets up to take it to the trash when she hears Deeks laugh on the other end of the line. "Kensi Marie Blye, are you trying to _clean_ as we speak ? Tssk. That's _cheating_."

"I'm not! I, I'm just… You're wasting time!" she finally says. "Movie is gonna start, so why are you still talking and not driving ?"

"Bossy, I like it," Deeks slurs, "My apartment is clean and smells good, but I wouldn't mind if you could stop at the 24/7 convenience store at my corner for some beers."

"Or you could stop there on your way to my place to buy some."

"I'm not gonna win this one, am I ?" Deeks asks playfully. Kensi smirks as she shakes her head. "Okay, I'm coming, I'm coming, Bossy. Can I take Monty with me ?"

"Sure. But hurry now!"

She hangs up on him before he can tease her again.

And then, the intensive cleaning starts.

* * *

"Are we celebrating something ?" Deeks says as she opens the door for him, his eyes roaming down the length of her body appreciatively. "I feel underdressed," he continues, motioning to his simple shirt and jeans and her dress.

"Shut up, Deeks."

"Oh, come on. You're doing it on purpose, Kens. Your sexy little lingerie, now the movie star skimpy dress ? The message is quite clear to me. I don't even know why I bothered putting on clothes," he teases. She glares at him, but he fails at trying to look the slightest apologetic. "You look gorgeous, by the way."

Kensi's tongue finds its way on suddenly parched lips for a second before she presses them tightly together, biting back a gasp. The intensity in his brilliant blue eyes is too much, no mischief in them, nothing but genuine admiration and lust and maybe something else, the heat in the small space between them too heavy for Kensi to bear. She looks down at Monty, the dog happily wagging his tail and waiting for attention. She kneels to pet him, hiding the faint flush of her skin.

"You cleaned," Deeks says after a moment as he steps further into her house, tracing a single fingertip on a shelf and then coughing as dust flies around. "Well, not _cleaned_, but you did shove all of your mess into your closet, huh ?"

"Not really."

"Nuh-uh," Deeks laughs, "I can see your coffee table for once. And I'm pretty sure that you didn't even know what color it was before tonight. You did that for me, Fern ? And in the span of mere minutes ? I am impressed."

His smile is a little too contagious for Kensi to be really annoyed. It's something she's struggled with at the beginning, how a simple smile or the look in his eyes could make everything better, from the sting of his playful barbs to the worst of days. But now she's grown to accept the idea that there's quite nothing she can do about it. His smiles, from the cheeky smirk to the childish grin, and the gleam in his eyes, mischief or glee or concern and care, have a hold on her that even the best training can't do anything against.

Some days, when everything and everyone seem to have conspired against her, Kensi feels like that smile and those eyes are enough to calm the storm inside, to soothe and reassure, to make her believe if only for a second that tomorrow will be better.

Some days, they just remind her that he _is_ there, for better and for worse; that he'll be there at the end of a long, terrible day without needing her to ask him to, just like he'll be after a perfect one. That movie or game nights and take-outs and strolls at the beach are no longer just the remedy to pain and hurt and ache, but also a reward, something she appreciates. Something she _craves_ on the nights they don't spend together, fewer and fewer as the months go by.

She's almost sure that they shared that pizza _only_ two nights ago.

A year ago, it would have probably scared her. There's a reason why she keeps secrets or doesn't open up easily; people let you down, people leave, people are taken away, so why bother getting to know them and letting them in if in the end, they're just all going to disappear one day, or into the night ? There's also a reason why she's never really probed or pushed to know more about Sam's life, about the wife and kid she knows he has but never really questioned or asked to meet; a reason why Callen's lone wolf living style has never intrigued her, or why they've never gotten closer with all those things they have in common, the loss and the errant quest for answers.

But all those reasons seem to momentarily be forgotten with _Deeks_. It no longer scares her as much as it did in the beginning to open up to him, to let him see sides of her that she didn't even know still existed after years of burying them deep inside her. More than that, it actually does feel kind of nice; having someone to confide in, someone she can say almost everything to and who won't see her differently for it. Deeks always seems genuinely happy when she shares the littlest things with him, little, insignificant things for most people, things she thought he couldn't care less of but that he takes great interest in listening to. And it does mean a lot for her to know that she knows things about him than no one else does; things he doesn't willingly share until she coaxes him with a smile or a gentle hand on his arm, things that sometimes make her shudder and feel for him, for the kid he was and who never really got a proper childhood, for the young man who had to work for everything he ever had, things that only her presence and warmth by his side can help him voice out.

There's just something about Marty Deeks that Kensi can't explain.

She's stopped trying sometime around a year ago, though. When she'd realized that he would never, ever leave her side; when she'd realized that it wasn't just words between them, but that trust showed in their every action, in _his_. When despite all the irrefutable evidence against her, Deeks never ceased to believe in her innocence; when in spite of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary he still said that everything was gonna be fine.

"Kens ? You getting your sassy ass over here ? The movie's starting," his voice calls her, and Kensi turns to find him comfortably sitting on her couch, Monty already snoring in his dog bed.

"Your obsession with my ass is unhealthy. And creepy. I don't even know why I even talk to you," she rambles as she sits on the other end of the couch, her legs tucked beneath her.

"And _you're_ the one saying that ?" Deeks replies, his eyes widening almost comically. "I could sue you for sexual harassment for all that ass-grabbing you seem so fond of."

She gives him a small kick with her foot, but before she can tuck her leg back under her Deeks grabs it, bringing it to his lap. "Let it go!" she says as she tries to squirm her leg out of his grasp.

"Didn't see your foot phobia on your _Romancing the One_'s profile, Sugarbear," he says teasingly as his fingers brush the red marks on her foot. He lifts up his face, taking her in again, from her hair and make-up to her dress and back to her foot. "You had a date tonight ?" he tries to ask casually. "Those are scary high heels marks."

She finds no reason to lie to him, so Kensi nods her head. She couldn't really bring herself to, anyway. "Yeah, I did," she shrugs.

"And yet you're here with me," Deeks continues, absently stroking the bruised skin. "What happened ? Do I need to kick some ass to Hell and back and again ? I'm a cop, you know. I legally can." He flashes her a bright grin, but it doesn't really reach his eyes.

Kensi could point out that he has no legitimate reason to be jealous, or _right_ to, but she knows that it would only be hypocritical. It's not like she likes hearing about his dates either, or just think about what he does when they don't spend the night together.

It's not like she really has a say about it either.

But in the end, she doesn't say that. Instead, she just shrugs again, giving a quick glance to the screen, already knowing that a billion things happened in the span of five minutes in the movie and she's already lost. "It just…" she starts with a quiet sigh, "I just knew it wasn't gonna work, so I went home."

"Why not ?" Deeks asks, surprise clear in his tone.

He absently starts to knead her foot with both his hands, the gentle press of his fingers soothing the knots gathered there. Kensi just leans more into the pillows at her back, focusing her gaze on his hands instead of meeting his eyes. "Just wasn't meant to be, I guess. He – it just didn't feel right."

"Well, I'm not gonna feel sorry for the guy," Deeks says, a sly grin tugging at his lips as one of his hands drifts up, coaxing her into putting both her legs on his lap. "Sorry that your night didn't go like you wanted it to."

There's something in his tone that tugs at Kensi's heart, and it hurts probably more than she would have ever expected. She wonders when it began bothering her so much, to see him feeling bad, to know that something she did or said is somehow the reason for the sudden unease she feels; she wonders if what she feels when she hears about the blonde hitting on him at Starbucks or the red-head he took home is really only about the fact that she thinks he's a hopeless pig, or if there's something else.

If he feels _that_, too.

Kensi moves closer, bending her knees – he better not try to peek under the hem of her dress. She gives his arm a playful punch until Deeks looks up at her. "What is it with you and maiming ?" he asks, whining. "Either you're trying to kill me, or you really, _really_ love me."

"Something in between," Kensi simply replies, offering him a small smile. It's a call for truce, for a fleeting moment of seriousness in the midst of all their teasing. Deeks locks his gaze with hers, his hands never ceasing their movement but his attention is solely on her and Kensi knows it. "Night is still young," she continues quietly, "and you being my slave for tonight and the rest of the month is not what I would consider a bad ending to this day."

"I'm sorry, what ?" Deeks chuckles. "You cheated, you missy. You cleaned after I called you out on your hoarderness. In fact, you should be my slave for a month. Make it two, since you cheated."

"Hoarderness doesn't exist," Kensi counters easily.

Deeks smirks at her before applying just a tiny bit more pressure on the sole of her foot, the touch too much as Kensi can't quite hold back the little moan that escapes her lips. "Make it three for being a know-it-all," he adds, his smirk only growing bigger at the sound.

Kensi kicks him again, harder this time, before she lies back against her pillows. She turns her head to the TV, trying to follow the movie. "So what's happening ? Why isn't he wearing his hat and whip ?"

Deeks balances his legs until he rests his feet on her coffee table, hers still on his lap. He sighs softly, shaking his head at Kensi's lack of cinematographic culture – if only that were the only field she was so bad in, he mentally mocks her, thinking of her music tastes. "Because he's an archaeology teacher in that big fancy school and that's not an appropriate outfit. But just you wait until he goes on full Indy mode and then he's gonna blow your mind," he says excitedly, his eyes gleaming.

"You really like that movie, don't you ?" she asks softly, her eyes focusing again on him. She's going to need to rent that movie if she ever wants to watch it.

"I do. I mean, come on, Kens. Indiana Jones is, like, the greatest superhero ever," Deeks replies.

"He doesn't have any super powers." Not that she knows of, anyway.

Deeks shakes his head as if it was the silliest thing he's ever heard. "Exactly. He doesn't need them, and that's what makes him so great. He can get all battered and bruised and nearly knocked out cold, and then he rises and defeats them all, with something as ridiculously simple as a whip. No super powers, no super strength, just his wit."

Kensi finds it funny (well, not funny, but for lack of better word that's the only one that comes to her mind) that he would be so passionate about a fictional character, but can't help herself when she thinks that those are the words she could use to describe him, if ever she was sure he could never know she uttered them. Kensi goes back to trying to follow the movie but finds herself unable to do so as the brush of his fingers on her skin keeps distracting her, sending shivers through her body and goosebumps that have nothing to do with cold. If Deeks notices, he doesn't say anything, and really Kensi doubts he does because he is so engrossed by the movie that he barely speaks, only to explain to her what's going on when he catches her frowning from the corner of his eye.

* * *

They're halfway through the movie and two beers each when Kensi decides to get up and change into more comfortable clothes. She makes the most of the commercials to do so, going to the bathroom and washing the make-up from her face, brushing her hair and taking off her dress, trading it with yoga pants and a tank top – no way she's putting on a pair of shorts or else Deeks is never going to let her hear the end of it. She hears him wander in her kitchen, probably filling up a bowl of water for Monty or something, and she finds him stroking the dog behind his ears when she comes out, Monty's sleepy eyes half-closed as he almost _purrs_ at the contact.

They're a pair of sorts, these two, she muses.

But she knows she wouldn't have them any other way.

(Particularly her scruffy partner, though Kensi recognizes that the description fits for both.)

Deeks stands up, ruffling his hands on the knees of his jeans. He's exaggerating, though; there's no way her floor is _that_ dirty. He sees her leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest as she's been staring at him and he smiles, his eyes as bright as they were when he first got there and she was still wearing her dress. Kensi almost blushes again, the look in his eyes too much and yet not so different from the way he looks at her any other day.

He's been looking at her like that more and more, now that she comes to think about it. Deeks doesn't even try to hide it anymore, how beautiful he thinks she is, how much he likes what he sees whether she's been all dressed up by fairy godmother Hetty or wearing plain white tee and jeans. She used to hate that, the way he was looking at her like any other man would, like she's just another pretty girl he'd try to get into his bed if only they weren't working together and there weren't any rules against that.

Now, she's not so sure anymore as to what she feels when she catches him looking at her like that. And for the first time, Kensi doesn't know if that is a good or a bad thing.

A bad thing probably can't feel that good, though, she reckons.

"You have a dog bed," he says quietly, almost whispering as Monty starts snoring again. He's worse than Kensi, and on the nights that he spends with her, Deeks can barely close his eyes between the two of them.

Kensi just shrugs, lightly tilting her head to the side – Deeks swears he's never seen anything _cuter_. "I have a dog bed."

"You don't have a dog," he presses.

"I don't have a dog."

Deeks smiles, one of these big smiles that kind of always bring one to her own lips. "You bought a dog bed because you wanted Monty to feel like home ?" he asks, though his tone and his eyes let her know that it's not really a question.

Something's happening in that moment, something that Kensi can't find it in her to dread or want to run away from. Deeks has been spending more and more time here, she can't deny that; whether he's just coming to pick her up for their morning run, or staying the night for a movie and unhealthy dinner, Kensi has to admit that it's only natural that he'd slowly invade her space as their lives grew more intertwined. On some weeks, Deeks spent more time with her at her house than he did at his own apartment.

Kensi smiles as she realizes that she doesn't really mind.

She goes back to the living-room, sprawling on her couch and Deeks follows her, this time sitting next to her and draping an arm over the back of the couch behind her. And then, before she can really comprehend what's going on, his lips are pressing against her temple, soft and gentle as he lingers there for a moment. She feels him inhale and exhale slowly as he nuzzles in her hair for a moment and she leans just a bit more into him, tilting her bent knees to him and resting her head on his arm.

"That means a lot, thanks," he whispers in her ear before he lets go, leaning back and focusing his attention again on the movie. Kensi doesn't really know what to say, but in the end she enjoys the companionable silence his quiet admission brings about as she relaxes against him. There's not really anything to say, and for once in her life Kensi isn't really bothered by it.

She dozes off a couple times before the end and Deeks rouses her awake gently each time, filling her in on what she missed and telling her random facts about the movie set of the actors. She smiles as she nods her head, happy to have something to share with him that doesn't revolve around past hurt and loss; more than that, Kensi is just happy to see him happy, carefree, even if for just a night. Deeks is an easy-going guy. He's fun and goofy, he's good-natured and has that capacity of drawing people in when he doesn't piss them off. Kensi had thought it was a bad sign when Hetty had thrust upon them the most hated cop in the history of the LAPD, but now she knew that it wasn't solely due to Deeks' maddening personality. It wasn't even _because_ of him, really; Deeks was young and doing one of the most dangerous yet exciting job that the police could offer, of course that would bring about jealousy and anger from other people. So, if a movie or surfing or his dog or even _her_ could make things a bit better for him…

Kensi likes to think that she is to him what he is to her, whatever that means. And whatever the implications behind that title are.

"So do you see now what I was talking about, the last scene ?" Deeks asks her, and Kensi just looks up at him, sleepy eyes barely open. "You didn't see the ending, uh ? God, Kens, now we _need_ to watch it again tomorrow," he chides her, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

Kensi yawns loudly, one hand covering her mouth as the other rubs tiredly at her eyes. "Only if you make me breakfast."

Deeks gets up and bows in front of her before extending his hand for her to take and he pulls her up gently, a smirk on his lips. "Your wish is my command, sincerely, your slave."

She laughs and squeezes his hand lightly before walking to her room, turning at her door to tell him to clean up the mess if he doesn't want to sleep on her couch. She smirks, half laughs half snorts before disappearing into her room. Deeks chuckles, shaking his head at her shadow before he tidies up, throwing the empty beer bottles to the trash, switching TV and lights off and petting Monty one last time before joining her.

He's washing up in the bathroom when he sees it, the black dress she was wearing for her date, but instead of bothering him, the thought just gives him an idea. He touches it, tucking the silky fabric between two fingers as he comes out, holding out the dress for Kensi to see. "Kens ?" he calls and she turns on her side, blinking her eyes to adjust to the dim light coming from the bathroom. "You're wearing that tomorrow night. Or, well, tonight," he simply says after giving a quick look to his watch.

Kensi looks up at him, and he doesn't know if she's confused or surprised. Maybe a bit of both. "I didn't know you were taking me out somewhere," she replies. "Or that I have to dress up for you. Why, by the way ?" she goes on, a smile on her lips.

"Don't play dumb with me, Tracy," he just says. "You know why."

She furrows her face in her pillow and Deeks almost thinks she's not going to reply; he's about to head back to the bathroom and close the door behind him when he hears it. Her voice is soft, all but a whisper, but he knows he was meant to hear it.

"I do, Jason."

* * *

When the waiter brings their finest wine and asks if they're celebrating something, Kensi can't help but smile at Deeks' answer.

"Our third anniversary."

* * *

_to be continued_


	4. Chapter 4

**Timeline**: May 2013.

_And we're nearing the end of this story! Only one chapter to go after this one, so hope you enjoy. Thanks again to the response to this story, to all of you who read, favorite, follow or review, or all four of them. :) That said, on with the story. Once again, this chapter is dedicated to the fabulous **Jessica237** who just updated her amazing **Stolen** **Moments**. Go read her, and you better leave a review! :)_

* * *

Kensi can't help but hiss as she slides her arm through the sling. Maybe she shouldn't have pushed herself too much and asked for help, but that's just not what Kensi Blye does, so even if it took her twice as much time as usual to towel off and get dressed, she's done it on her _own_. Problem now is, it hurts like _hell_.

A knock on the door startles her for all but a second before a soft voice can be heard on the other side. "Kensi, honey, do you need some help ?"

Kensi gives a quick glance to the mirror, taking in her disheveled appearance: her hair is a tangled mess of wet curls, her pajama pants are hanging loosely at her waist because she couldn't tie the bowstrings and her clothes are slightly slick with some remnant shower water. "I'm fine, Mom. Be out in a minute."

"Okay. If you need anything…I'll be in the kitchen," Julia replies quietly. She lingers behind the door and Kensi knows it – can almost _see_ the little smile on her mother's lips as she goes on. "Oh, your _friend_ called again, by the way."

Kensi waits until the footsteps grow fainter to let out a sigh. It's not so much that Deeks' gentle insistence to call or text to check on her bothers her – it's kind of _cute_, in a _very_ cheesy and unnecessary way – but he doesn't need to do that _all_ _the_ _time_; nor does her mother need to give her that little wink or grin whenever she hears Kensi's phone ringing. Deeks is her _partner_, not her friend – not the kind of friend that Julia is thinking of.

(Damn him for calling her _Princess_ or _Kensalina_ in front of her mother at Christmas dinner. No wonder that Julia is already writing the invitations.)

She gives up trying to brush her hair and leaves the bathroom, taking the now familiar path to the room she's been staying in for four days to drop her things before walking downstairs to find her mother in the kitchen, cute little apron tied around her waist and a wooden spoonful at her mouth. "Smells delicious, Mom," Kensi says softly as she sits on a stool at the counter. Her phone is laying there, one missed calls and two unread texts waiting for her.

"Thanks, honey. It won't be ready before another forty-five minutes, though, so you have plenty of time to call Marty!"

Kensi shrugs, grimacing a bit as the pain in her arm reminds her of its presence and at Julia's enthusiasm – _she_ can call _Marty_ if she wants to this much. "Nah, it's okay. I'll just send him a text," she replies, slipping her phone in the pocket of her pants. "Do you need any help ?"

Julia laughs quietly as she turns around, one hand on her hip. "Kensi. By your own admission and Marty's, you're not really a cooking fairy, are you now ? I don't think you could do much with your arm like this."

"I'm not _that_ bad," Kensi all but whines, her lips pressed in a pout. "I mean, I know how to make lasagnas." Julia cocks an eyebrow at her, and Kensi sighs, grinning. "Okay, well, I know how to take them out of the tray and cook them, at least."

"You do know that you _don't_ need to take them out of the tray, huh ?" Julia chuckles, turning back to her saucepan. She hums softly, some song that Kensi can't quite place but that reminds her of some other time, maybe some old lullaby, and for a moment silence falls upon them both. It's a comfortable companionable silence, though, nothing like what could happen on the first encounters they had, shared coffees or dinners spent tip-toeing over the line of guilt and regret. Now neither Kensi nor Julia feels the need to fill the silence with random chatting; Kensi wishes she had when Julia speaks again. "So, I've been thinking… It's Friday night, work week is over… Why don't you invite Marty over for dinner ?"

He's not that _charming_, dammit, Kensi thinks, and yet Julia seems completely _smitten_ with him. It's one thing that Deeks teases her a lot about, how the Blye women can't seem to be able to resist him and even though Kensi pretends to gag every single time, there's no denying that her mother is very, _very_ fond of her partner. He's _Marty_, and Julia has already made it quite clear an insane amount of times how charming and endearing and cute and handsome she thought he was, each time insisting even more and giving Kensi a look, _the_ _look_ that mothers give to their daughters when they're supposedly too blind to see something that's right under their nose.

The only thing that Kensi sees, though, is that Julia _scarily_ meets the criteria for a _cougar_. The thought only makes her shudder and Kensi shakes her head at her own silliness and closes her eyes before sighing heavily. "Mom…"

"_Kensi_," Julia just says, still stirring pots and tasting, and Kensi is reminded of the tone she and Deeks used when they were Melissa and Justin reprimanding little Cody Felton. "He's your friend and he's worried about you. I'm sure that if he could, he'd be the one taking care of you all day. What's so wrong about letting him, uh ?"

_Because it'll hurt even more when I lose him._

That's Kensi's immediate thought, the thought always hanging around in her head, insidious and persistent and simply impossible to shut out. But she can't say that; can't tell her mother who is just about the sweetest person she knows beside Deeks that she refuses to let anyone, not even her partner, her best friend, her _everything_, be there for her because someday they will all just leave her. Her father left her, Jack left her – _even_ Julia left her… People always leave. People always swear to love you and be there for you and then they leave or they're taken away or they just get tired of pushing when all Kensi does is keeping them away. _Deeks_… He's more insistent, more determined to break down her every wall; he's stubborn and pushy, _more_ than anyone else, Kensi must admit that. And _that's_ exactly the problem: he's more likely to get tired of her soon with all the efforts he's _already_ put in taking down everything she'd thrown his way than others before him. So what's the point in letting him in, if all he's going to do is try and find his way out as soon as he'll see just how entirely messed-up she really is ?

Kensi can't do anything against the shivers that run down her spine at the mere idea – losing him is not an option and yet an ineluctable ending at the same time, and it simply _kills_ her. It kills her to think that she _will_ lose him someday because she's too _scared_ to take a chance on him, on them, on this.

Her mother's voice interrupts her and Kensi lifts up her head to see that Julia turned around again, her hands on the counter as she now leans into her. "Kensi, honey, are you alright ?" she asks, her brown eyes filled with concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Kensi replies simply, not elaborating more – she knows that Julia doesn't buy it, no one does, so why bother ? "I'm gonna go call him, okay ? But it's Friday, maybe he's out somewhere with some girl, don't get your hopes up."

She's at the doorway when she hears it, Julia's soft chuckle. "I highly doubt that, Princess."

* * *

He almost picks up his phone _before_ the first ring. Kensi doesn't even have time to say hello that Deeks is already chiding her. "Why didn't you answer my texts ? Do you know all the crazy things that my mind came up with as to why you didn't ? I almost considered calling your mom and then I was like, "If she's alive and well she's never gonna let you live this down and probably punch you." _Dammit_, Kens!"

"Can I speak now ?" she teases, a playful spark to her tone that doesn't seem to amuse Deeks. "I probably would have mocked you if you'd called, yeah."

"Yeah, mock away, mock away," Deeks growls and Kensi can just imagine him rolling his eyes at her. "Sorry to be concerned about my partner's well-being."

His last comment stings her a bit – it just sounds like a veiled attack more than concern to Kensi. She knows it's ridiculous because Deeks is not like that but she can't help but feel angry and maybe a tiny bit _guilty_: does he think that she doesn't care ? Does Deeks think that she wouldn't be concerned or worried about him if something happened to him ? Doesn't he remember how worried and utterly _terrified_ she was when he got shot ?

"I, uh, I was just worried, okay ?" he adds after a moment, an apology in his tone that makes her heart swell painfully in her chest. "Just… Don't do that to me, okay ? I _know_ you're safe at home, that your mom is taking care of you, but it makes me…" She hears him swallow hard and Kensi wishes nothing more in that moment than for him to _stop_; stop before he says something silly or ridiculous. Something that _can't_ be taken back.

"I was in the shower," she says, interrupting him. "I, uh… It's not that easy to deal with, God, _everything,_ with only one arm." She expects the kinky comment about how he would _gladly_ help her, but it doesn't come and _that_ worries her more than anything else; for Deeks not to make dirty jokes or innuendos, things have to be very serious. "I didn't mean to worry you…"

He's overreacting, really – she didn't _break_ her arm or anything – but Kensi _never_ meant to worry him that much. Sure, she feels like he's worrying for nothing, but all in all his texts did make her smile these past four days; random comments about the team, jokes or simple, sweet little messages saying he's hoping she's feeling better and having a good time with her mom… Deeks didn't deserve that she'd mock him for that, or ignore him. Julia was right; if he could, Deeks would be the one taking care of her, tending to her every need even before she could feel them. He'd happily play the knight in shining armor and bring her breakfast in bed or sit through endless hours of mindless, brainless reality-TV shows; he'd do everything to make it easier for her without treating her like a baby, without making her feel helpless and fragile – he'd be _perfect_ and she knows it.

He'd offered to drop by her house during lunch breaks and spend the nights with her, but… For no more logical reason than her own irrationality, Kensi had said no, telling him that he didn't _have_ to even though she knew he was more than happy to be there for his partner, knew that he missed her, God, just liked _she_ missed him, that it was who he _was_… And then Julia had offered too and she couldn't really find it in her to push away the one person she'd been deprived of for so many years because of the anger and blindness of a stubborn teenage girl.

"So, uh, how are you feeling ?" Deeks asks, his soft voice breaking the silence and the care in his tone the tension.

She's honest with him – she at least owes him so. "It hurts. It's – God, it's _vicious_. If I make the slightest move…" Kensi pauses, her teeth digging lightly in her bottom lip as she presses her lips firmly together, fighting off a wave of pain at the memory only. The bone might not be broken, but the suspect who twisted her arm behind her back and pulled again and again really did a number on her; dislocated shoulder, a blossoming bruise, and just bending her elbow hurts like hell.

Deeks is quiet on the other end of the line, but Kensi can hear his sharp intake of breath and easily imagine his pulse beating like mad in his veins – it's a surprise, really, that the guy is still alive because the look in Deeks' eyes had left everyone thinking that were he left alone with him, no one would ever find his body. His black eye and the blood he had spit as Deeks' fist met his jaw once, twice, three times before Sam had stopped him were visibly not enough of a relief for her partner. He had seen red, literally, and Kensi feels even guiltier now upon not calling back to let him know she was okay.

She knows this goes beyond concern and straight to freaking out, and it's partially the reason why she didn't – _couldn't_ – let him be there all the time like he desperately wanted to. More than that, she knows why; behind the care and concern, behind her partner's protectiveness over her, behind Deeks' eagerness to invade her personal space laid the guilt he was plagued with, guilt for letting her out of his sight, for letting her get caught and battered and bruised, for letting someone put their hands on her and hurt her.

_Job has its hazards. _

Kensi closes her eyes briefly as Stan King's words come back to her, the cold calculation in his demeanor, how easily he had pressed the trigger and killed Bobby Asher… and then she remembers being held by the neck and then punched in the jaw before Deeks ran to them and punched King. She remembers him asking her if she was okay and bringing her an icepack for her sore jaw before the debrief, the look in his eyes and the small smile on his lips when she'd said she was fine and how it had made her change her answer to a truer _I'm good_. She remembers how surprised she'd been to see him at her front door, how surprisingly pleased it had made her; how fun the night had been, how nice it had felt to see that someone cared enough to push past her trademark _I'm fine_.

How natural it had seemed to fall asleep on the couch, her head on his shoulder and his arm around her, and for Deeks to make breakfast the following morning as if he'd been living there forever, easily navigating in her kitchen and finding every utensil.

Now, though, even if the situation is similar, Kensi's feelings are anything _but_.

She did get hurt; he does feel guilty for it, like he had with Stan King too. He's been caring and concerned and a _little_ bit adorable – that's Deeks, however infuriating and maddening he can be, she can't deny it – but Kensi can't help but notice just how different things are between them now, how much deeper the feelings that were already there back then are after two more years of this ever growing _thing_. She can't dismiss the flutter of her heart when Deeks had thrown the first punch; can't deny how her heartbeat had pulsed harder and faster, and not only because of the pain she was in; can't deny how it wasn't only surprise or shock or relief to get back-up that had made her eyes widen and her lips part in a silent gasp.

It was _desire_, lust, pure attraction that she'd already felt several times, at the gym as they sparred, slick sweaty skin sliding against one another, or when she watched him hit the punching bag. But there was _something_ _more_, something stoked by just how gentle he'd turned into in a fraction of a second as he'd knelt at her side to check on her; the softness in his gaze and his touch as he'd tucked a curl behind her ear, the way he'd talked the paramedics out of taking her to the hospital, promising he'd be there to watch over her and make sure she'd take her painkillers.

Deeks _is_ a great partner, and what he did is proof of that; but buying her a tub of rocky road and holding a bag of frozen peas to her shoulder all night long is definitely _not_ part of the _job_ he's signed up for. That's solely _him_, her best friend, the one person who cares about her more than anyone else, the one person who is always there for her in any capacity she ever needs – and this Deeks is not just her partner anymore. No, he's _more_ than that. He's more than a caring partner bringing dinner after a rough day, more than a coworker who's slowly become a friend she loves spending more and more time with outside work.

Kensi's not sure she could have handled him staying overnight for a week or two, only to see him gone once she'd get better. And _that's_ what's making everything so damn complicated now. She can't stop thinking about things like that, things she _shouldn't_ think about; how she has a dog bed and healthy food in her fridge now, how Deeks is _always_ just a phone call away and how many times a week he sleeps in her bed instead of his.

And how she _doesn't_ like it when he's not.

And how she doesn't know what to do with that.

And how that's dangerous on so many levels, and not only because they're partners and feelings and emotions don't mix up well with their line of work.

Kensi hears some clutter on his side, followed by Monty happily barking. _Dinnertime_. She clears her throat, gently worrying her lip between her teeth for a couple seconds as she hears Deeks navigate in his kitchen to feed the dog. This silence…it's _deafening_ her; between his guilt and hers, the struggle she's in and that he seems to share, there's nothing left to say, nothing but this heavy silence interrupted by tentative, shy words.

It's not the first time one of them gets hurt, and it won't be the last.

But it's the first time that Kensi feels like _everything_ is getting out of her hands. Her feelings, _his_ feelings, the tension between them ever so palpable, her control escaping her fragile grasp.

It's the first time that she feels like, had he stayed with her, something could have happened – something _would_ have happened.

And she _can't_ find it in her to remember why it's supposed to be such a bad idea.

He starts speaking at the same time as she does, and after a quiet chuckle Deeks lets her start. "My mom is, uh, she's making dinner and… It's okay if you're busy or don't want to, but, uh…" She hates herself for the shaking in her voice and for her nervousness, because, _come on_, this is Deeks; her partner, her friend who's seen her at her best _and_ her worst, who's seen her triumphant and victorious _and_ battered and bruised, who's seen her smiling and laughing _and_ crying and whimpering, who's seen her in lace and silk _and_ yoga pants and messy hair…

Her partner who's seen her in much _less_.

Her partner's _hands_ that have been on her when she was wearing much less.

Her partner's hands that she wants on her _again_.

_Dammit, Kensi._

"So, yeah, I just wanted to know if, uh, if you wanted to come over for dinner. You know, if you don't have anything else planned," she finally lets out in a breath.

His reply is immediate, Deeks not even trying to hide his enthusiasm; Kensi can't even find a reason why he would, anyway. And _she_ can't deny that it does feel more than nice. "Sure, yeah. I just came back from a run with Monty, so unless dinner is ready and I need to hurry up, give me half an hour to shower and then I'll be on my way, is that okay ?"

_Shower_.

Droplets of water rolling down his hair to his neck, his shoulders, his chest…

_Dammit, Kensi_.

"Sure, no problem," Kensi says, wincing just a bit as her teeth draw blood from her lip. She soothes the bite with her tongue, briefly closing her eyes. And then, after another few words, she hangs up.

And then, when she opens her eyes again, Julia is standing in the doorway, a big grin on her lips.

_Damn you, all of you._

* * *

As expected, Julia doesn't hide her excitement over having Deeks for dinner, and neither does she waste an occasion saying it again and again or _gushing_ over every single little thing he does, from how much of a polite young man he is to how nice it is of him to check on her daughter.

Deeks winks at her from across the table during the entire dinner. He answers every one of Julia's random questions, from the random ones about work and the team to more private, intimate ones whose purpose is crystal clear: are you or not available for my little girl and if yes, why haven't you done anything _yet_ ?

So much for subtlety, Kensi thinks.

And when Kensi thinks that Julia _can't_ do anything worse, she _does_; they're moving to the living-room for coffee and dessert when Deeks stops by a shelf and points out to a picture of her. "Is that you in a _Little Mermaid_ costume, Kens ? God, you're so cute."

Well, who else could it be, really ? Kensi snorts and rolls her eyes, but can't help but swoon just a tiny little bit at Deeks' smile. She doesn't really get time to say anything before Julia is at his side, all too eager to comment. "She was, wasn't she ?" her mother sighs quietly, touching the frame with a gentle fingertip. "Wasn't long before she threw away all her dolls and decided to cut her own hair with her father's combat knives."

Deeks raises a hand to his hair, nervously threading his fingers through the blonde mop. "That little knife you hide in unmentionable places ?" he starts, narrowing his eyes at Kensi, "Going to the trash."

"Now now, Deeks," Kensi almost cajoles, sauntering to him and raising her uninjured arm to his head, a smirk on her lips as she pats his hair, "I'd never do that to you. I know you'd faint just upon seeing the blade."

"You're scaring me."

"Mission accomplished," Kensi grins. She turns to her mother and finds Julia watching their exchange with a wistful, knowing, _annoying_ smile on her lips, the kind of smile that leads to _trouble_.

And trouble it brings, but when Deeks speaks again, a smirk of his own tugging at his lips, a mischievous gleam sparking in his ocean blue eyes. They're daring, tonight; daring her to win the upper hand again after he says this. "You wouldn't touch my hair because you love it. Come on, tell me you don't want our little ninja mutant assassins to have Daddy's goldilocks."

_He. Did. Not._

God, he did. In front of her mother, her mother who is already so in love with him and looking at him like he's going to give her a houseful of blonde-haired, blue-eyed grandbabies, her mother who's been pushing Kensi about _him_ for four days, asking her everything and everything again about how they met, how it was when they first started working together, how often they see each other outside NCIS, what they do, until Julia even outright asked her how she felt about Deeks.

_Are you in love with your partner ?_

It's _Astrid's_ words that came to her mind first when Julia started probing about Deeks, asking questions about him, if he had a girlfriend, about his family; but then, other words from other people refused to leave her. It was _Ray's_ snarky comments about how Deeks was a sucker for brunettes and how he'd teased him about having a thing for his Wikipedia; it's the blonde barista, _Star_, asking them if they were _together_ _together_; the CIA Officers, _Sobatino_ not wanting to step in the middle of something and _Snyder_ mocking Deeks for barely being able to hold himself back from jumping on her. And when she'd started thinking about it, countless other names had come up, random people who didn't know them commenting on their chemistry, or people at the bullpen whispering a bit too loudly about the junior agent and the detective.

And then _Julia_, who had seen what Kensi refused to since the very first day she'd met Deeks.

That Deeks is _definitely_ not the only one with a thing for his partner.

"Oh, you must see that one, too!" Julia almost squeals, leading Deeks by the arm to another shelf, another round of baby Kensi and girly Kensi and Ninja Turtle Kensi waiting there.

Kensi rolls her eyes and excuses herself to the bathroom. It's only when she realizes that she's left her mother and her partner _alone_ that she hurries back to the living-room, only to find Deeks and Julia sitting on the couch, a baby album spread on their lap. She catches a glimpse of herself naked in her bath, foam all over her body making her look like a freshwater shark, and she sighs before sitting on Deeks' other side. He gives her a lopsided grin before gently draping an arm over her shoulders, and a look that promises he will _never_ let her live this down.

At some point, Julia stands up and goes sitting on another couch facing them; desserts get devoured – Deeks sighs before letting her finish (or, well, almost completely eat) his own – and coffee cups are emptied. As the evening enrolls, Kensi starts relaxing; maybe because Deeks behaves instead of going on about their future children or because Julia asks him about his week without his partner. The arm around her squeezes her tighter then, almost to the point of pain even though it's not hard to reach considering the state her shoulder is in, the unconscious gesture saying everything to Kensi. He didn't like one bit of it, that's for sure; and Kensi knows it's not because he was partnerless which made him more vulnerable out in the field. It's because _she_ wasn't there, because he missed her and worried about her.

And maybe it's that feeling, the warmth of his embrace and the meaning lying behind, that finally lures her into surrendering, her head slowly tilting to the side until it rests on his shoulder as Kensi closes her eyes.

Julia smiles at him then as she nods toward Kensi. "I have to trick her like that every night. I put her pills in her dessert, there's just no way she would ever skip dessert, right ?"

Deeks laughs quietly, looking down at the sleeping form next to him; Kensi's light snore can already be heard. "No way indeed," he grins, reciprocating Julia's smile. Gently, his fingers at her shoulder inch up to play with the ends of her hair. "I've seen her get hit by a car and still run faster than me. She doesn't know what pain means for us, common mortals." He lifts up his head again, only to find Julia's staring at him with wide, concerned eyes, and he quickly mumbles an apology. "She's badass, your daughter. She's made of steel. Don't worry about her."

Julia chuckles, a tender look in her eyes as they roam from her daughter to the detective. "Just like you, huh ? You don't worry about her, maybe ?"

"Touché."

Silence falls upon them for a moment after that, Deeks silently threading his fingers through Kensi's hair, and Julia watching him; he can feel that something is bothering her, so he looks up to find her smiling at him, her eyes going from his hand in Kensi's hair to his eyes. "Is there anything you'd like to ask me ?" he asks softly, his gaze locking with hers.

Julia shakes her head softly, visibly amused, her warm brown eyes gleaming under the soft light bathing the living-room; it's a playful spark, much like Kensi's when she's teasing and taunting him with her tongue flicking on her lips or a button popped open or two. "Oh, no, I was just wondering why my daughter was so stubborn, that's all."

"Oh, you and me both," Deeks whispers quietly. "But, she wouldn't be our Kensi if she wasn't." He focuses his gaze back on Kensi, gently moving her in his arms to find a better position for her injured shoulder. "I – I should probably go. She's so not used to taking painkillers, she'll probably be out for a day or two."

"She's not gonna like it," Julia simply replies, a knowing tone to her voice as she sips her coffee. Deeks looks up, confused, but Julia just keeps smiling. "She's not gonna like it, waking up and seeing you're gone. She's been missing you."

"Oh, I can assure you that if she wakes up and finds me _still_ here, she's gonna call me a creep," Deeks snorts.

"_Marty_…" Julia chides him gently, cocking an eyebrow at him. She gets up and collects the tray of empty bowls and cups on the coffee table before walking to the kitchen. "She always falls asleep on the couch," she calls over her shoulder. "She'll wake up and go to her room at some point. I'm sure she'll be pleased to see you're still there."

And then, Julia comes back and unexpectedly gives him a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, Marty. See you tomorrow."

And then, the only sound in the room is Kensi's snore and quiet breathing.

* * *

His left side has gone completely stiff by the time Kensi stirs and slowly comes awake, a little over an hour later. She nuzzles into his chest for a good five minutes, her fingers repeatedly clenching and loosening their hold around the fabric of his shirt before she blinks her lashes a couple times, her eyes adjusting to the dim light in the living-room. And then she hums softly, still lost in a haze of sleep to realize where she is, and more specifically, _with_ whom she is.

It takes her another minute before realization hits her, and then Deeks' eyes are met with the most beautiful pair of sleepy brown he's ever seen. Kensi gives him a small smile, almost shy as she bites on her lip. "You stayed…" she says, her voice soft and low, the tiniest hint of surprise in there.

"I stayed," Deeks replies simply, brushing some hair away from her forehead. "Despite your snoring. God, Kens, I wonder how long it's gonna take before the neighbors call the cops."

She snorts and then shrugs, a small pout on her lips. "Heh. I don't snore – not that badly at least, right ?" she asks him, slowly blinking away sleep, a little frown on her brow.

"No, no, not that bad, Piggy Kiki," Deeks teases her, his hand gently smoothing the crumpled fabric of her pajama top. She tries to straighten up and winces in the process, letting out a shaky breath, and his hand shoots immediately back to her shoulder. "You okay ?" he asks in a murmur.

Kensi nods her head, briefly closing her eyes as a wave of pain crushes over her. Slowly, she tries to regulate her breathing as she inhales and exhales in soft puffs of air, gritted teeth and lips thinly pressed. Deeks applies the back of his palm to her cheek, gently caressing her skin as she calms down – he almost swears she leans into his touch. "Do you want some water, anything ?"

"No, no it's okay," Kensi finally says, and Deeks takes his hand back; but before he can fully do, Kensi wraps her fingers around his wrist. "Thanks, Deeks."

"For what ?" he asks, confusion stretching on his features.

Kensi shrugs with her uninjured shoulder, lightly tilting her head to the side and looking at him from under her lashes. "For being my pillow, I guess."

"Anytime." She literally beams at this, and Deeks has to bite down on his lip not to lean down and kiss her right there because in this instant, she is the most adorable thing he's ever laid his eyes upon, messy hair, sleepy eyes and pouty lips. He resists, though, and gives a quick glance to the faraway clock. "I should probably get going now. Do you – do you need anything before I leave ?"

Kensi gives him a puzzled look. "Come on, don't be ridiculous, Deeks. You know my mom will be more than happy to have you at breakfast. You don't need to go."

She gives him a look then, dark brown eyes tired and sleepy and gorgeous, and for a second Deeks almost believes he's hearing the words she leaves unspoken: _don't go_. And then he doesn't really get to decide whether he's imagining them or not because she says them, actually voices them. "_Stay_…"

How is he supposed to deny her ? Besides, when was the last time that Kensi Blye asked him something and he refused ? Yeah, never. He's folding back the comforter he spread over her as she slept, Kensi switching off all the lights except for the one leading to the stairs when she comes back to him, her lip caught between her teeth. "Everything alright ?" he asks.

She nods. "Can I ask you something stupid ?"

"Stupid is my area of expertise, babydoll," he slurs, fully turning to her. "What's up ?"

Kensi looks down, gesturing to her pajama pants with one hand. "Can you… Can you tie those damned bowstrings, please ? Those pants are too loose, they keep rolling off my hips."

He smirks – can't help it, really. "Well, I'd rather take clothes _off_ of you than help you put them on, but heh, okay," he teases, noticing how no punch comes. His hands go to the front of her pants and he quickly ties the bow. "Here, now we saved you from being arrested for public indecency if you ever step a foot outside dressed like that. Though, I'm a cop, you know, I'd probably be able to do something for you," he adds with a wink, gently bumping her chin with his knuckles.

She rolls her eyes at him but doesn't say anything; instead, she just grabs his hand and leads him to the stairs and show him the way to the bathroom and to her room where she tells him she'll wait him. He joins her barely five minutes later after running to his car to get his go-bag and freshening up; Kensi is sitting under the blankets, her back pressed to the bed head when he comes in.

"Hurts too much to try and lie down," she just says as he walks to the other side and slips in next to her. His hands are on her hips a second later and her eyebrows rise in surprise. "What – what are you doing, Deeks ?" she all but croaks.

"Let me," he just says, and gently he nudges her until he can settle behind her, back against the pillows and the bed head. "Come on, come here now," he goes on, gesturing to the space in front of him. Kensi does as he says, nestling into him as she half-lies, half-sits in between his open legs. "Better now ?" he whispers in her ear, gently nuzzling in her hair as he loosely wraps his arms around her.

Kensi shivers then, his hot breath fanning over her ear as his lips almost brush the shell tickling her sensitive skin. She hums softly, falling deeper into his arms. "Mmmh, yeah," she lets out in a breath.

"Good. Sleep now, Kens. I've got you."

He does.

She feels the press of his lips against her temple and squeezes his hand with her uninjured one before she slowly drifts off to sleep for the rest of the night.

* * *

The following morning, it feels just as natural as breathing to wake up in his arms, and Kensi realizes it's the best night she's spent, the first one she's slept all through the night.

Julia is beaming when they walk downstairs for breakfast.

Deeks is about to leave when Kensi gives a smile to her mother and asks him to wait, and help her gather her things.

He spends the rest of the week-end at her house, Monty happily playing Kensi's pillow for her arm as his daddy gets all the snuggles.

(She almost kisses him when he sits her on her bed and stands in front of her, gently drying off her hair with a towel.)

* * *

_to be continued _


	5. Chapter 5

**Timeline**: May 2013, post-Parley, pre-Descent.

_And here we go with the last installment of this story! Many thanks to y'all who read, review, follow and favorite, and to Jess who has to go through all my whining and doubting all the time. That said, hope you enjoy. :)_

* * *

Kensi Blye's been shot, stabbed and beaten up. But nothing hurt more than the sharp sting of _betrayal_. But for there to be betrayal, there would need to have been some vow to break first; something tangible, official, between the two of them. Something more than flirting and bantering; something more than daring, playful winks and touches. Something more than movie nights and burgers and beers. But even then…

It's not like Deeks met a girl and started dating. And even if he had, it's not like Kensi has any right to resent him for doing so; which makes what she's feeling right now even more _ridiculous_.

It was _Max_ who had spent all these months with Monica Davis, _Max_ who had used his charm to gain her trust and make her help him on this case; _Max_, she'd fallen for. It was for _Max_ that Monica had been ready to steal and run away, for _Max_ that she'd put her life in the line, despite how oblivious she seemed to the danger ahead.

Except that Max Gentry doesn't _exist_. And in the end, it's her partner, her friend, _her Deeks_ who has done all of this with that woman; her Deeks who has smiled and winked at her and used his silver tongue to charm her with well-chosen words dripping with seduction; her Deeks who has dined and wined her, sharing more than innocent kisses at the front door after a date.

It's her Deeks who's slept with that woman.

And despite the fact that all of his actions could be explained and justified by the sake of the assignment, there's nothing Kensi can do to stop feeling angry and hurt.

Which, back to the point, is ridiculous.

Because in the end, _that_ is what hurts the most; more than the fact that Deeks has hidden something this huge from her for months, more than the fact that they've spent months side by side, day and night, at work and outside, and he's _never_ said anything. In the end, his secret may have been a blow to the trust between them, but Kensi could deal with the secrets and lies that their job made mandatory sometimes; what she can't get over, though, is imagining him spending months, nights with Monica, and then coming back to her as if nothing had happened. That, well… It might have just broken her heart a little.

(_A lot_.)

Kensi sighs as she sits down on her couch, bringing her bent knees to her chest. Pacing around her living-room won't help; pretending that she's good, either. The only thing that she could – _should_ – do is go see Deeks, and tell him that…

Tell him what ? That she's sorry for being unprofessional and not in the least supportive of him whenever there's a woman involved because her mind goes to places she'd rather not explore ? That she can't remain objective when she thinks of these things that Monica said and did with Max that she'd never shared with anyone else before ?

Worst is, Kensi doesn't even understand why it hurts so much, when what he shared with Nicole was so much more intimate. Back then, letting himself fall in love and allow Nicole to see more of Marty Deeks than Max Gentry had had nothing to do with his cover; he hadn't needed to seduce her to get info or anything. She was his best friend's wife; she _is_ a woman he's been in love with. _Monica_… She's just collateral damage, a necessary part in the pursuit of obtaining intel on an international arms dealer and taking his organization down.

It's a part they've all played, Sam and Callen more often than Kensi, but in the end Monica is no different than any other man she's flirted with, led on or kissed for an op. Granted, she may have never spent months undercover like Deeks did, but she _gets_ it; she understands why he did it, and that he surely didn't want to – after all, if there's one thing that Kensi doesn't doubt, it's that Deeks hates being Max Gentry as much as she hates having to stand by and watch.

But in the end… It hurts even more than it had with Nicole Martindale because the spark that was already there back then has turned into a raging fire that cannot be tamed now; because the feelings she had tried to fight so much have morphed into something more, something deeper than attraction and infatuation and sexual tension.

Kensi can't deny it anymore.

What she felt when she found out that Deeks had been undercover for months may have been betrayal, but what she felt as she sat in her car, listening to them, what she's _still_ feeling now, days later… It's _jealousy_, plain and simple. Jealousy, and anger – but instead of being directed at Monica or Deeks, it's herself that Kensi is angry with.

Because she knows better than this – better than falling in love with her partner.

She's been there, done that; and in the end, the one thing Kensi's learned is that love always brings heartache, pain and grief. And she's promised herself that she would never, _ever_ make that mistake again.

Except that there isn't really _anything_ that she could have done against irritating, infuriating, maddening yet sweet, kind, funny, loyal Marty Deeks, and it goes beyond a winning smile and beautiful baby blues.

It's about the way Deeks had come uninvited and unwanted, only to slowly worm his way inside her heart; how the strong hold of his hands had pulled her out of this room filled with lasers, when any other colleague would have waited for the bomb squad; how he had refused to close his eyes on her lies, when Callen and Sam had never called her out on it, and made her spend the best Christmas she had had in six long, lonely years.

It's about the way the pang at her heart when Hetty had said he was missing had been reawakened when he was shot, the fear of losing him making everything so complicated; how he'd punched Stan King for hurting her, and how he'd come to her that night to make sure she was okay – how she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder only to wake up the next morning to Deeks still there, making her breakfast as if it was the most natural thing for them to do.

It's about the way that this morning, she'd realized that it _was_; that it was natural for him to _always_ be there, whether it meant following them to Romania or driving her to the airport, refilling her not-so-hidden and not-so-secret candy stash or letting her go when no one else would have.

It's about the way that she'd come to realize that she was lucky to have him, that she never wanted him to go – that she didn't know what she would do if she ever lost him.

It's about the way she'd been sad to put an end to three blissful weeks with no care in the world but being his wife – how she'd never really gotten the impression that the man she was living with was any different from the one she worked with every day.

And now, even though it scares the hell out of her, Kensi realizes that she just can't pretend anymore; can't pretend that he's not worth taking a risk, just like she can't hide behind Jack's ghost or Callen's rule about not dating law enforcement for the rest of her life. Because at some point, someday, maybe sooner than later, there _will_ be a woman to whom Deeks will promise the things Jack had; there will be a woman out there, falling head over heels with the gorgeous ocean blues and charming smile that could make her go through just about anything.

And she won't be that woman unless _she_ makes a move.

Kensi grabs her phone and hits the speed dial before she can change her mind; she just knows that if she doesn't do it now, she probably never will. There's nothing keeping her from saying it this time, no secret op from which she's been kept in the dark. And considering the dark times ahead, there's probably no _better_ time either.

After all, they could all be dead in a few days.

She gets a little bit nervous as one ring becomes two and then three, four, five, and she can't help the little sigh of relief that escapes her lips as Deeks finally picks up just before the call reaches his voicemail. "Hey, Kens," he greets her, sounding a bit out of breath. "What's up ?"

"I just, uh, I just wanted to… Nothing, really. Just wanted to know if –"

She hears some unidentified noise in the background, and before she can finish her sentence, Deeks is interrupting her. "Do you mind if I call you back ? I'm a little bit in the middle of something right now. Unless it's important ?"

She's waited three years – a little extra hour won't kill her. She's a little taken aback, though. "No, sure," she says. "Nothing important. Don't worry."

"Okay. Call you back in half an hour, okay ?"

Kensi nods, and before he can say bye, she hangs up.

There's a lump in her throat that keeps her from adding another word.

She thinks about all these nights he declined her invitation for a drink and the game or a Top Model Marathon. One time, he wasn't feeling good, and she had even offered to take care of Monty for him; another night, he had something planned with one of his rare buddies from the LAPD. Kensi had never questioned the reasons why he couldn't make it; after all, they spent so much time together that Deeks had the right to have other plans, just like she had dinner with her mom sometimes. But _now_…

Now, she can't help it; as she sits on her couch, watching the minutes pass by, half an hour turning into a full hour, Kensi can't help but think about all these nights, about all these _lies_. Because now she knows that he was never where he said he was, or doing what he pretended he was doing; and all these nights or week-ends he wasn't with her, he'd been with Monica, living a double life with another woman, pretending he was someone else.

And now who knows what he's doing.

It's an hour and a half later when Kensi can't stand it anymore and, instead of grabbing her phone, it's her car keys she grabs as she makes her way to the door.

* * *

She'd been so sure, so quick to jump to her feet and get in her car moments before, but now, as she stands in front of his door, hand raised to knock but still hanging in the air, Kensi can't remember why this seemed like such a good idea. She breathes slowly, shaking her head at her own silliness before finally knocking on his door – Kensi Blye is _not_ a silly or nervous, especially not about a guy.

She hears his footsteps coming closer and then the door swings open, revealing a wet, bare chest Deeks. "Oh, hey, Kens," he says, his voice edging with nervousness and a little bit of guilt. "Sorry for not calling you back, I got a little, uh, distracted. Come in."

He moves aside to let her in, but Kensi doesn't move. Instead, she bites on her lip, trying to rein the tremble in her voice she can feel coming before she speaks; she looks away from him for a moment, unable to meet his eyes. "Am I interrupting something ?" she asks, her voice so soft that Deeks barely hears her.

"Yeah, I was having a pool party, but it's okay, the more the merrier," he laughs, not sensing the unease in her tone; when he doesn't see a grin stretching her lips, Deeks frowns. "Just kidding," he continues, putting a hand on her elbow to guide her in. "I was just giving Monty a bath."

She turns to him, eyes widened in surprise. "That's why you didn't call me back ? You were just giving him a bath ?"

Deeks just smiles before tilting his head to the dog; Monty is sprawled in his bed, head tucked on his front paws, looking miserable. "Poor buddy is sick. And just like his Mommy, he won't take his meds," Deeks smirks, chiding her playfully as he kneels down to scratch the dog behind his ears. "I was trying to trick him when you called. But he's smart – just like his Daddy, aren't you now ?" Deeks ridiculously coos, "He could smell that something was wrong with his food. So we kind of wrestled until I managed to make him take them. Barely ten minutes later, he was puking all over my shirt."

"_That's_ why you didn't call back," Kensi all but repeats, staring at Deeks with incredulous eyes. She almost wants to slap herself for all the ridiculous thoughts that crossed her mind.

"Yeah, well, we both needed a bath after that, so… And before you suggest it, _no_, we didn't share that bath," he grins, winking at her. "I was just coming out of the shower when you knocked." He pauses, stroking Monty's soft fur for another moment before he rises to his feet, standing just barely an inch away from her. "I _would_ have called you after, Kens. I was just –"

"It's okay," she interrupts him, lifting a hand between them; she accidentally brushes his skin and immediately pulls back, taking a step back in the process. Deeks stares at her, surprise flicking through his blue eyes. "I was the one overreacting a bit. You weren't calling back, and I started thinking that something was wrong… So I came here."

"No problem," he shrugs, smile still on. "You let me grab a shirt, and then if you want I'm making you the best lasagnas you've ever tasted. Lasagnas, red wine, cheesy romcom and rocky road, how does that sound ?" he teases her, already turning to his room.

He never expects her reply. "I think we need to talk," she says, her tone nothing like his.

"With or without the shirt on ?" he asks her, not turning around, his hand closed around the doorknob. It could be playful if he was looking at her, daring her to pretend she doesn't like the sight of naked to the waist Marty Deeks; it could be playful if they were just flirting like they always do, teasing and bantering, but it's not. Because she can't see the mischievous gleam in his eyes, because she can hear the light shaking in her voice. Because there's nothing witty or remotely funny about what's been going on in her head for days now.

Her reply is nothing but a low murmur of his name, and her soft voice is everything Deeks needs to know that Kensi didn't come here for no reason. "_Deeks_…"

He hadn't seen that coming, the day when Kensi Blye would want to talk about _feelings_ – her feelings. Deeks turns, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes searching for hers but Kensi averts her gaze. He sighs softly, waiting for her to look at him, but when she never does, he simply gestures to the couch, inviting her to sit.

When he emerges from his room a moment later, white shirt on and hair just a bit less wet and disheveled, Kensi's still standing in the middle of his living-room; ready to go, or ready to talk, he doesn't know. She feels his presence, and without looking at him, she takes a sit.

Talking it is, then.

She looks down at her folded hands on her lap, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She can't look at him right now. "I said I was good, but I wasn't," she says after a moment, feeling his persistent gaze on her. "I'm not."

"I had, uh, kind of guessed that," Deeks replies quietly. "So, I guess that means _we_ are not good either, huh ?"

Kensi turns to him then, but she can't meet his eyes just yet; instead, she focuses her gaze somewhere around his chest, his white tee clinging just a bit to his still wet skin. "Why didn't you tell me ?" she asks him, her voice all but a low whisper. "I mean, why did this have to be a big secret that even Callen wasn't let in ? I don't understand why I couldn't know…"

Deeks sighs heavily, his warm breath fanning over the bare skin of her shoulder; Kensi hadn't realized he was so close, or maybe she's the one who got closer. "You know I would have told you if I could, Kens. You have to know that."

"I know. I just don't understand. With Fisk," she starts, shaking her head as if trying to shake the memories away, "I could get why. Why you all kept me in the dark. But here… Why did Granger do that ? Why did he make you do that ?"

Deeks chuckles then, and Kensi's so surprised that she lifts up her head, their gazes locking for the first time. "What's so funny ?" she asks, anger creeping up fast.

"Nothing," he shrugs, placing a gentle hand on her knee; she wants nothing more than to slap it away, really, but she can't bring herself to. "It's just… You know why he did that, Kens. Same reason why Sam never bothered to tell us he was doing business with CIA in Sudan. Same reason why you never told me what you were doing in Hawaii…" He brushes her arm with his fingers, bringing them to her face where he gently bumps her chin with his knuckles. "If you had known, you would have never let me do this alone, and you know it."

He's right, absolutely one hundred percent right, and Kensi doesn't see why this is such a bad idea. There's no reason why Granger hadn't let them both go undercover, or at least allowed Kensi to have her partner's back. No reason at all.

"But why _you_ ? You're not even an –"

She stops herself before saying it, but Deeks doesn't need her to say the actual word for him to understand what she means – he'd asked himself the same question, at first, before understanding Granger's bigger scheme. "I'm not even an agent ?" he says softly, a small smile on his lips. "Yeah, well, I guess that's the whole point, isn't it ? I mean, Callen's the team leader, and whether Granger likes it or not, we've already seen how we can't really function without him. Sam…let's say he already has a lot going on with Michelle. And you, Agent Blye…" His smile grows bigger as he says her name, and his fingers trace their way back down her arm until they brush hers for the briefest moment. "I don't think you're Monica's type," he chuckles.

"I could have gone undercover as a hostess. There was no need for a male agent here," Kensi replies firmly, no hint of humor in her tone. "It didn't _have_ to be you. You didn't have to be alone…"

"Granger couldn't have two agents down out of four for an assignment," he tries to reason, knowing that the argument won't convince her – it never really convinced him either. "And Hetty either. She had to make a choice, and there was no choice but letting Granger do what he wants. I was the only option, really."

He shrugs, trying to dismiss it, this insidious feeling of knowing that his life doesn't mean anything to Owen Granger, that if he had any say in it – and God, how he does, and there's nothing that even Hetty Lange could do about that – he would already be back to LAPD; knowing that, if he hadn't accepted this assignment, he would have _been_.

Her soft voice breaks him out of his trance, and it's confusion he sees in those beautiful dark eyes. "Hetty pulled me aside, that day when you weren't there… She just told me that Granger was meddling with you and your position with us. What does that mean, exactly ?"

Oh, the one question he wished she hadn't asked.

Deeks brings a hand to his head, raking fingers through already unruly locks. How is he supposed to tell her that once again, Marty Deeks has proven himself to be nothing but a failure, that the job offer Hetty had given him, the already signed application waiting for nothing but his own signature to bind him definitely to their team, is no longer valid because Owen Granger said so ? What's there to say, really; that he had waited too long, taking time to think and ponder options when there seemed to be no reason for him to delay it, when he has no friends in the LAPD, when it has never felt like home ? How is he supposed to explain to her that he didn't sign right away when being offered to permanently be her partner ?

He feels her fingers brush against his, and the gentle brush brings him back to focus. "Why didn't you say no ? Granger is not your boss. You're still LAPD."

Deeks clears his throat, giving himself some time to try and gather his thoughts. "You find yourself in front of a building in fire," he starts, not really knowing where he's going, "and inside, there's someone you love, and a dozen people you've never met. What do you do ?" he asks her, his fingers gently stroking up and down her thigh. "Who do you save ?"

Kensi gulps hard, both from his question and the feel of his fingers on her denim-clad thigh. "As an agent, or as myself ?" When he cocks an eyebrow at her, Kensi just bites her lip. "Saving people. Protecting people. That's what we do. So I'd choose to save them. Why ?"

Deeks shakes his head, a small, sad smile crossing his lips. "I didn't. I mean, that's basically what Granger asked me. He told me that if I didn't do it, I'd be responsible for God only knows how many deaths. But in the end, that's not the reason why I did it."

"Why did you do it, then ?" Kensi asks, her words all but a breathy whisper. She feels his breath over her face, mingling with hers, but she can't pull back, nor can she look away. She _needs_ him to tell her why.

"I did it for you. Just for you. He said that if I ever wanted to apply to become an agent, I had to do it. And…" He prays for the spark lighting in her eyes not to fade once he speaks his next words. "I guess he could have asked me _anything_, and I would have done it."

Kensi shakes her head, confused; what he's saying makes no sense. She opens her mouth, but no word comes out. Deeks just sighs, rubbing his fingers over the pulse in his temple. "Granger said he would personally make sure that your Director never saw any NCIS application with my name on it if I didn't do it. He said that if I really wanted to be your partner, I had to. So I had no choice, because…"

He shrugs his shoulders, giving her a sheepish smile. "I felt like, in the long run, hiding this from you would be worth it in the end if it meant that Granger wouldn't kick me out. If it meant that, I don't know, that maybe you and I got to be like Callen and Sam… Partners for five years and more, and not just the somewhat belittled pair because you're a junior agent and I don't have the training that you guys have… I wanted more for us. For you."

"Wait," she tells him, her eyes widening as realization dawns on her. "Does that mean that you…that you're gonna join NCIS ? Or, you know, that you're thinking about it ?" Kensi corrects herself, not wanting to pressure him.

"Have you ever thought of leaving NCIS ?" he just asks her, relaxing just a bit as he casually slings an arm behind her over the back of the couch.

The answer is quick, easy, held in a simple utterance of one short little word. "No." Kensi shakes her head, gently biting on her lip. "I mean, someday, maybe, if I ever have kids or something, but until then… No. It's my home."

"I used to think of the LAPD like that before. Not anymore," Deeks says quietly, as he tucks a stray curl between two fingers. "For three years now, I've felt more at home with you than I've ever had. Law school, police academy, LAPD… I just never fitted there, you know ?" She nods softly, and he smiles just a little bit. "If you listen to Granger, I still don't fit with NCIS either, but… It's the first time that I actually don't care about what people think of me and of what I should do or not. Because what we have…it's something good. And if your home is NCIS, then I guess mine is too."

_My home is wherever you are, baby girl. Wherever you are._

A shiver runs down her spine, and Kensi can't help but tremble under the tenderness laced in his words and his gentle gaze on her. The implications of what he's telling her…they're huge, the kind of things that you can't unsay or unhear; the kind of declarations and promises that you don't bring yourself to say unless you mean them.

She knows how much he hates being Max Gentry, and yet he did it to have a chance to become a NCIS agent someday – for her. To stay with her. He could have said no and remained their LAPD liaison officer forever. He could have said no because he simply couldn't do that, couldn't go back to being the one person who disgusted him more than his own father. But he didn't; he chose to go back undercover as his most hated alias, on a mission that she's sure Granger knew all along was dangerous. For her.

No one's ever done that for her.

But then again, she's never had a partner like Deeks before. No other partner has lasted this long, or pushed so much to get to know her; no other partner has ever riled her up, gotten under her skin and driven her crazy like Deeks does. And quite honestly, Kensi wouldn't have it any other way.

Because in the end, there's no one else she trusts with everything like she does him.

And if their positions had been reversed, if she'd been the one Granger had come to and threatened like that, she would have done just the same. She would have done anything and everything to stay with Deeks.

And just like that, Kensi is back to the start – back to the heart of the matter, the _one_ thing that really bothers her, hurts her, more than she's comfortable with. Not the secrecy, not Granger's schemes… _Monica_.

"Was it worth it ?" she asks in a low voice, back to staring at her hands. When he doesn't answer immediately, she elaborates. "I mean, having to go back undercover as Max for months, just to get Granger on your good side, was it worth it ?"

It comes out completely wrong, but there's nothing Kensi can do about it now. Granted, Deeks doesn't let it get to him; he just sighs, mirroring her position. For a moment, he's silent, trying to gather his thoughts. Yes, becoming Max Gentry again hadn't been the easiest thing; yes, he had thought of her when his eyes first landed on Monica, grimly thinking about how pleased and amused Granger had to be, how he must have planned this since these nuclear weapons were stolen, looking for a way to get rid of him by interfering in their relationship.

Kensi was right; she could have gone undercover as a hostess. Choosing her would have made more sense, considering she _is_ a federal agent and _is_ better trained than he is. Granger had had to pull some strings with Bates to make him agree to this; getting Hetty to let this happen had had everything to do with intimidation and politics. Granger had put in as many efforts to be sure that Deeks would do this as Deeks had done his best to succeed, to show him that he had earned his place with this elite them, that he had earned Kensi Blye's trust and that he would do anything so she would never have to start this all over again with someone else.

So was it worth it ? Was lying to her, hiding things from her and the team, risking his life with no other motive than fighting for her, worth it ?

"Yes. And if I had to do it all over again, I would."

Kensi rakes a trembling hand through her hair, pursuing her lips and squeezing her eyes firmly shut for a moment. She can't suppress the need to ask, even if it'll probably come out as an attack more than a question. "And Monica… I guess she made it easier ?"

It's a low blow and she knows it; if anything, dating Monica and lying to her and using her had had to be the worst part for him. But Kensi doesn't see straight in that moment; all she can think of, all she can _feel_ is pain and ache and the deep cut they inflicted to her, to what she thought they had.

"_Kensi_…" It's just a whisper, a breathy whisper of her name, no nickname this time, but Kensi hears in it everything she's feeling: ache, regret, guilt. "I did it for the op. What happened with Monica, it was all about me doing what was best for the op. About Max and Monica, not me…not you and me," he says tentatively, reaching again to lay a hand on her shoulder this time. He tries to turn her around to him, but Kensi resists.

She only speaks again when she's sure she can without hearing the wavering in her voice. It's a simple question, a yes or no question, a question she already knows the answer to, but when she hears herself ask it, even Kensi is surprised by how calm and cold she sounds. "Did you sleep with her ?"

He wasn't expecting it, if the sharp intake of breath he takes is any indication. "Kens…" He trails into silence for a moment, staring at her and hoping she'll look him in the eye instead of resolutely staring blankly in front of her. "Why – why do you want to know that ?"

"I don't know!" she snaps, her head shooting up as she turns to finally look at him. What he sees on her face breaks his heart: at the corners of her eyes, there are unshed tears he knows she's fighting off with everything she has. "I just _need_ to know, okay ? I need you to say it."

He cups her chin with a gentle hand, forcing her to look up at him. She doesn't resist, this time; she's done fighting at this point. "I manipulated her. I seduced her. I used her. And yes, I did," he just says. It's not the time to justify himself or explain her the reasons why; she wanted the truth, and he owed it to her.

"And then you came to me as if nothing happened," she continues, unable to break away from his gaze, from these gorgeous, deep blue eyes that can see straight to her soul. "You left her bed to share mine. You slept with her, and then you…"

Kensi trails off, realizing that _this_ is the heart of the matter. Not the fact that he's slept with another woman, undercover or not, but the fact that she's jealous and hurt and angry because he's not supposed to date or flirt or seduce or sleep with other women, period.

He's _hers_, plain and simple. He's hers, and she can't stand the idea of him with any other woman, whatever the reason behind is.

"You did it for me," she goes on, and neither of them really knows if she's asking or making a statement. "You did it so you could have a chance to join NCIS, whenever you're ready." He nods, and she flicks her tongue over suddenly chapped lips. "You did it to stay with me. You did that for _us_."

He nods again.

And then, before she can question it – and really, they've reached a point when this was _inevitable_ – her hands grab at his shirt, and her lips are on his.

* * *

Kensi Blye doesn't get jealous.

Except she did.

And in a way, maybe she should go find Monica Davis and thank her, because if it wasn't for her, who knows how long she would have been stubborn and blind – mostly _stubborn_, because she's known that Marty Deeks was more than just a colleague and a friend for a _long_ time.

But then she also thinks that maybe it's now or never; that they may have survived a vendetta in Romania, a mortal virus and the deaths of two of their own at the hands of the Chameleon, but they could also very well not survive what's ahead.

And if she's going to die, then she wants to die knowing that she's not taking lies and regrets to the grave with her.

She kisses him as if she never wants to let go, and in a way, that's the truth; they've danced around the line for three years, touches and gazes becoming more and more daring, steadily stoking the fire burning deep within, and there had to be a moment when it all would become too much. Right now, though, Kensi wants _more_.

His hands are holding her face, fingers threading in her dark waves, and hers are slipping under the hem of his shirt when Deeks pulls back just a little, enough to look her in the eye, lips almost touching, the taste of her still lingering. "Are we – are we good ?" he asks, and Kensi blinks in surprise and maybe a tiny bit in shock – and this is the most adorable thing he's ever seen. "I mean…" he starts, barely able to focus on anything else but her rosy lips and the spark in her desire-lidded eyes, "are we really doing this ?"

Kensi grins then, claiming his lips again in a slow, sultry kiss; she only parts from him when she lifts up his shirt over his head. "If by this, you mean kissing, taking off our clothes and going to your room, then _yes_, we're doing this," she tells him, her lips back against his as soon as his shirt pools on the floor. Hers follows quickly, and then his mouth is at work on her neck, teeth gently nibbling, and Kensi winds a hand in his hair as he lowers her down on the couch. "And if you think that this is gonna make me forget about dinner, then you're sadly mistaken."

He laughs against her skin, and after the heaviness and seriousness of their conversation, it's a gorgeous sound that Kensi gladly welcomes. Deeks makes his way back to her lips, trailing a path of kisses until he does, and then his hands are on the back of her thighs as he lifts her up. Kensi gasps, a tiny little feminine noise that makes a huge grin spread on his lips, and then he swears she almost _giggles_ when he drops her on his bed.

Needless to say, lasagnas and red wine and rocky road are the least of her worries when his mouth is back on hers, his body moving above hers, skin against skin.

* * *

Marty Deeks is a cuddler, Kensi Blye isn't.

Except she is. With him.

It started out of need. And that night, wrapped in his arms, feeling his reassuring heartbeat, inhaling his scent with every breath, Kensi realizes it's become pure want.

She doesn't really need his voice or his arms to fall asleep - she just wants him to be there.

She just wants him.

She just _loves_ him.

* * *

_the end._


End file.
